


The Right Place For Me Is Beside You

by forgetmenotjimmy



Series: Antidote to Canon [4]
Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: AU, Choose Your Own Adventure, Episode: s07e19: Until The Weather Breaks, Europe, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Last Minute Holiday, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Romantic Fluff, brettsey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 54,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: “It doesn’t matter where you go. It’s who you go with. Even the best places can be ruined by a dud,” Otis was saying wisely, “so no, I do not want to go on holiday with Capp.”Sylvie rolled her eyes. “But the worst destinations can be made better with the right company. Anyway, we can only get 6 tickets. I was thinking: me and Casey, you and...”“Casey?” Otis questioned with a twinkle in his eye.“It was his idea.” Sylvie defended; though she wasn’t sure why she had to, or what was Otis implying with that expression.This was going to be a nice, fun holiday for everyone to relax, nothing more.
Relationships: Brian “Otis” Zvonecek/Lily, Chloe Allen/Joe Cruz, Darren Ritter/Eric, Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Series: Antidote to Canon [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552927
Comments: 662
Kudos: 195





	1. Getting Off the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I tried to research how this thing is supposed to work but I don’t think I found the right search terms cos I couldn’t find anything. Closest thing was this German company that lets you book trips to Germany without knowing the exact location until the day or something. So anyway, head’s up this fic will contain how I THINK it might work. Also I am ignoring VISA laws. This is a wonderful world where you can just pop into any country unannounced. If it super bothers you pretend everyone has European passports.  
> It's a Choose Your Own Adventure: rules at the end if you want to join in.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Otis nodded as Sylvie told him about getting a group together for surprise airline tickets.

“It doesn’t matter _where_ you go. It’s _who_ you go _with_ , even the best places can be ruined by a dud,” he was saying wisely. “so no, I do not want to go on holiday with Capp.”

“Hey!” Capp protested in the background.

It was a normal morning at 51. Breakfast had just ended and everyone had dispersed: Engine on a call; Truck doing inventory and Squad on their table. Sylvie had interrupted Otis’ count of the fire extinguishers on the app floor, too excited to feel bad about making him start over. 

Sylvie rolled her eyes at his comment. ““But the worst destinations can be made better with the right company. Anyway, we can only get 6 tickets, I was thinking me, you and Lily, Cruz and Chloe and Casey.”

“Sorry, Capp.” She called back to him; he waved her off good-naturedly. 

“Casey?” Otis questioned with a twinkle in his eye.

“It was his idea.” Sylvie defended, though she wasn’t sure why she had to. What was Otis implying with that expression?

“I’m just not sure it’s a good idea to go on holiday with your boss.”

Sylvie opened her mouth but then closed it again. That was a good point, why hadn’t she considered that before?

“Come on, it’s Casey.” Cruz said from behind her. “I’m sure he won’t hold it against you if you let loose a little.”

Otis tilted his head in consideration.

“You and Chloe can come too!” Sylvie told Cruz excitedly. “We’re applying for-”

“Yeah I heard, the surprise airline ticket thing.” Cruz nodded, crossing his arms. “It sounds good but I’ve only got one week of furlough left. I was planning on using it for a getaway with Chloe.”

Sylvie’s heart melted a little at the idea of Cruz and Chloe. “Well, you two could join us just for a week. I’m sure there’ll be lots of opportunities to slip away for some alone time. Every country has romantic spots.”

Otis chuckled and Sylvie snapped her eyes to him. Why did she think he was laughing at her? He held up his hands innocently when he saw her looking but she wasn’t placated. 

“I’ll consider it.” Cruz promised, pulling her attention away from Otis.

“Okay, well, we’re leaving in two weeks so you’ll need to update the schedule if you want to come.”

They both agreed to check with their respective girlfriends and Sylvie made a note in her holiday planner.

…

“How’s it going?” Casey asked a little while later, as Sylvie sat on her bunk, assessing her checklist. 

She looked up and whined. “Everyone’s being really wishy-washy.”

Casey laughed. “Wishy-washy?”

“Shut up.” She admonished him heart-heartedly. “That’s a thing people say.”

“Sure.” He agreed with only a hint of sarcasm. She gave him side eye but relaxed when he said: “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fun even if it’s just the two of us.” He smiled down at her, leaning against the partition.

Her heart fluttered a little at that crinkly-eye smile. Then she sat up as she saw:

“Foster!”

Her partner glanced at the pair, gaze sharpening as Casey stood up straight, shuffling a little. “What’s up?”

“You like adventure, right?” Sylvie took on a puppyish look.

“Is this some team building thing?” Foster asked suspiciously.

“Nothing like that! It’s a surprise destination holiday! We find out where we’re going on the day. Me and Casey are already signed up, we’re just trying to pin down some other people to come.”

Foster looked at Casey for a long moment before turning back to Sylvie. “Sounds like fun. You two are going?”

“Yes, me and Casey for sure. Otis and Cruz are being…”

“Wishy washy?” Casey supplied with a smirk.

Sylvie whacked him lightly with her clipboard. “Shush you!”

Foster hesitated again, eyes darting between them. “Well, I am getting a little bored of the Chicago scene. I could get behind partying in another country. Sure, I’ll check my schedule. When are you going?”

Sylvie baulked at the ‘Chicago getting boring’ statement but didn’t argue, instead giving Foster all the details. Her partner promised to check her schedule.

“Hey, why don’t you ask Ritter?” Foster suggested. “His boyfriend is a travel agent, right? Couldn’t hurt to have an expert along.”

Sylvie considered it. “That does sound good.” She jumped up and went to the common room, Casey following at a slower pace.

“Ritter!” Sylvie called excitedly. Ritter was at the back door with Tuesday straining against the lead.

“Yeah?”

“How would you and Eric like to come on a surprise last minute trip with us?”

Ritter’s brow wrinkled. “Uh, you and…?” He looked past her and Sylvie glanced around to see that Casey had caught up.

Ritter cleared his throat. “Uh, where to?”

Sylvie dived into the explanation, wilfully ignoring poor Tuesday’s impatient whines and Ritter’s wary expression.

“Sounds great, right?” She finished.

“Hey!” Otis called from across the room.

“You snooze; you lose Zvonecek!” Sylvie shot back unsympathetically. “I need an answer today!” Otis threw up his hands with a mock-gasp.

“Uh,” Ritter wavered. “I’m not sure Eric would like not knowing where he was going.”

“Okay. But will you ask him? Maybe it’d be nice for him not to have to plan for once.” Sylvie cajoled, smiling winningly. “It’ll be fuuun.”

Ritter finally relaxed into a laugh. “Okay, I’ll ask him.” Then he took Tuesday outside.

Sylvie swivelled her head round to grin at Matt and found him already looking at her; eyes soft. Swallowing, she went to sit at the round table to make more notes. 

Severide strolled around the kitchen island, biting into the apple he’d taken from the refrigerator. He shoved Casey’s shoulder lightly, raising an eyebrow. Casey muttered something to him which made Severide chuckle and back away, shaking his head all the while. Casey glared after him but when he saw Sylvie’s questioning glance, his expression smoothed over and he shrugged. Sylvie smiled back and looked down at her list, happily.

It was going to be two weeks of nonstop fun.

…

On the morning of the flight, Sylvie jolted awake at her alarm. Despite the early, early hour, she felt buzzed. Nerves jangling, she got dressed quickly and put her already packed bags in the car. Otis and Cruz were staying with their respective girlfriends – ostensibly to help them pack, though Sylvie doubted either of them would be very helpful.

She warned them to be on time because Foster had said she was willing to stand in if anyone tested Sylvie’s patience. Ritter had said he and Eric would join if the destination was right, so she was going to call them when they found out where they were going. That kind of defeated the point but Sylvie did appreciate having a back-up plan. She really wanted this vacation to be unforgettable.

Taking a deep breath, she ran over her mental checklist of things to bring, double checked everything and then locked up. The drive to the airport was smooth given that it was pre-dawn. She parked in the long-stay parking and took her bags up to the terminal.

Getting to the check-in area, she looked around uncertainly. There were a lot of people around: mostly young families, business men, groups of flight attendants and pilots. She’d only flown once before and it had been a domestic flight. The airport was a little intimidating.

Where was everyone else?

She took out her phone and saw that she had a missed call. Feeling flustered, she put down her over the shoulder bag and unlocked her phone. Before she could do anything else though, she heard a familiar voice behind her. 

“Sylvie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve always wanted to do a ‘choose your own adventure’ style fic and I’m only working half-days now so, what the Hell? It’ll be an experiment either way.  
> Ground rules: This fic is Brettsey and will be rated ‘teen’ throughout; if there is any adult action it will only be referenced, nothing explicit. The overall tone will be fluffy with some minor angst thrown in because I feel it’s kind of inevitable with these two’s histories.  
> Everything else will be put up to vote! If you want to vote on where the next chapter will go, just leave a comment with your choice for each number. 3 days after posting a chapter, I will count the votes and write the next one. I am hoping to do weekly updates but we’ll have to see. Voting is not obligatory, if I don’t get any responses I’ll just decide myself…or cry, depending on my mood.  
> Also, if you have anything you want to see, let me know and I’ll consider adding it as an option for a future chapter.
> 
> Votes for Chapter 2:  
> 1\. Group members:  
> a) only Matt and Sylvie [other characters will appear through calls and messages]  
> b) Matt and Sylvie, Otis and Lily, Cruz and Chloe  
> c) Matt, Sylvie, Foster, Ritter and his boyfriend, Eric
> 
> 2\. Destination*:  
> a) Netherlands [bike rides, scenic countryside, Amsterdam, canal tours]  
> b) France [wine tasting, scenic countryside, spa days, Casey's terrible French accent]  
> c) Europe trip: Netherlands, France, Belgium [the above plus: fondue and Bruges, the prettiest town you’ve ever seen]  
> *As I’m expecting to write this quickly, I’m going to stick to countries l’ve visited so I don’t have to research too much.
> 
> 3\. On the plane, Matt and Sylvie talk about:  
> a) their failed relationships [light emotional hurt/comfort]  
> b) their childhood holidays [fluff with a dash of angst, with Matt’s history it's inevitable]  
> c) both of the above
> 
> I’ll count the votes on: Wed 8th April around 10pm CEST- European time
> 
> EDIT: The results are in:  
> 1a [14/22] =only Matt and Sylvie  
> 2c [11/22] = Europe trip  
> 3c [13/22] = holiday and past relationship convo  
> Thank you so much everyone who voted, I'm working on the next chapter now, hoping to upload on Sunday *fingers crossed*


	2. Day 1: France

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been decided! Matt and Sylvie are going on a tour of France, Belgium and the Netherlands and on the flight over, talking about childhood memories and exes.

“Matt!” Sylvie exclaimed. Never had she been so glad to see him. She wasn’t sure if it was the relief colouring things, but did he seem more handsome than usual? He was wearing his normal off-shift clothes: dark jeans, sturdy shoes, sensible jacket. Despite the early hour his hair was still combed back and he was clean shaven – what time had he woken up?

She felt a little self-conscious; she’d only brushed her hair a few times before running out of the door and forget about make-up at that time of day. Casey didn’t seem to notice the awkward pat down of her hair though; he just smiled at her.

“You made it!”

“Of course I did!” She replied, a little confused.

“I got worried when Severide messaged me, said Cruz had asked him to take his and Chloe’s seats.”

“What?” Sylvie asked.

“Yeah, he said something about Chloe’s work; they had an emergency she has to stay to deal with or something.”

“Oh.” Sylvie said, deflating. Then she remembered the missed call. Exchanging a glance with Casey, she got out her phone and dialled voicemail.

_Hey Sylvie, I am sooooo sorry about this._

“It’s Otis.” Sylvie murmured for Casey’s benefit, brow wrinkling as she listened.

_Lily’s grandma has been sick for a while and she took a turn last night so Lily doesn’t want to leave the country, just in case. I really want to go on this trip but I’m gonna stay with her, you know, be a good boyfriend. But I’m gonna call Foster, see if she can take my place. I’ll message ya, sorry again. Bye!_

Sylvie updated Casey as she pulled up Foster’s number.

“That’s terrible.” He commented sympathetically.

She nodded and then concentrated as Foster answered. “’lo?”

“Emily, you’re my only hope.”

“What?” Foster sounded groggy.

“Did Otis not call you?”

“Oh, right, yeah I’m sorry but I can’t get out of bed right now. Turns out Chicago is still pretty fun, as I found out last night.”

“Uh…Really? But what about…”

“Is Casey there?” Foster interrupted, sounding like she was smiling.

“Yeah,” Sylvie looked up and realized that she and Casey were standing quite close to each other. When had that happened?

“He’s here.” She answered Foster, voice a little hoarse.

“Then girl, you two will have a great time together.”

“Wait-” Sylvie started before huffing. She said to Casey, “Foster just hung up on me!”

“I could call Severide, see if I can persuade him…or didn’t Ritter…?” Casey offered but his reluctant tone made Sylvie shake her head.

“No, no. They all had their chance.” She hesitated, staring up into his eyes. “We’ll be fine, just the two of us. Right?” She asked tentatively, as if saying it too loud would startle him into moving away.

“Yeah, more than.” He answered just as softly. There it was, that tension between them, the one that popped up every so often and held them, until...

Casey looked away and coughed. “Shall we?”

Sylvie pressed her lips together and nodded, trying to hide her blush.

They went to the airline desk and Casey spoke to the clerk.

“You’re going to…” She said as she typed their names into her computer.

Sylvie glanced at Casey and sensing her gaze, he turned his head to look back at her. They shared a nervous smile.

“Paris.”

 _Wow, romantic!_ Was Sylvie’s first thought. _No!_ She told herself sternly: _none of that_. Casey was beaming, oblivious to Sylvie’s inner thoughts.

“France! That’s great. I’ve heard a lot of good things about it.”

Sylvie focused on his reaction, which seemed completely free of awkwardness. When Casey was relaxed, everything was fine – that much she’d learned over the years.

“The flight in lands in Paris and the flight out leaves from Amsterdam.” The clerk continued. “There’s no further travel booked with us so you’ll have to make your own way between the cities but don’t worry, Europe has great trains.”

Casey smiled. “Have you ever been?”

The clerk tittered a little and talked about her trips to Germany. Sylvie hid a grin as she watched Casey nod seriously, his ‘interested’ face firmly plastered on and thoroughly charming the clerk.

As the clerk checked in their bags, Sylvie’s mind began to wonder as she imagined what the trip would be like. She pictured sleek trains and rustic houses, the sun warm on cobbled streets, fresh and vibrant food calling out to them. And she also had a cute, funny, dependable guy to enjoy it with…

She was beginning to get excited when the clerk added.

“The people who booked those tickets also reserved rooms in a hotel through us as well…” she looked back at the screen and Sylvie used the opportunity to calm her heartbeat; rooms plural, one each, no romance happening there. The clerk continued: “it’s in the Loire Valley, about an hour from Paris by train. The reservation is two rooms for four days; would you like to take it?”

Matt raised his eyebrows at Sylvie, silently asking her opinion. The option of having somewhere to stay when they got there was too good to pass up; as much as she was ready for adventure, some security was nice too.

“Sounds great.” She nodded and Matt smiled at the clerk, getting out his card.

“Your flight leaves from Gate C5 at 3pm. Remember you should be at the Gate at least 40 minutes before departure. Have a nice flight and enjoy your trip.”

Matt thanked her, taking their tickets.

Sylvie picked up her carry-on with enthusiasm. “Alright Captain, where to now?”

“This way.” He pointed but didn’t make to leave. “And you can call me Matt. Seeing as we’re on vacation.”

She took in his earnest expression and felt a thrill race through her. Although she had known him for many years, and had learned a lot about him over said years, there had still been this distance between them. Truck Captain and PIC, friend/husband of Dawson, co-workers. Now they were just going to be friends on vacation together; now they would be Matt and Sylvie.

Sylvie saluted, enjoying his chuckle as they made their way to security.

“Have you flown before?” Sylvie asked curiously, taking in his usual, confident walk.

“No, but there are a lot of signs.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’m good with signs.”

Shoving down the thought of how good he looked when he was in control, Sylvie hummed happily.

…

Security was boring and a little nerve-wracking, but the early hour meant it went pretty quickly. They came out the other end to Departures. Although they had a good amount of time there, Sylvie was itching to get a start on planning their journey once they reached France. She found some computers and began researching, waving away Matt’s offer to help. Chuckling a little, Matt leant against the desk beside her, people watching.

“It’s an eight-hour flight and we’re leaving at 3pm so…” she thought for a moment, “we’ll get there at 6am their time.”

“Cool, so we’ll have the whole day then.” Matt offered practically.

Sylvie gave him an unimpressed look. “If we don’t fall asleep standing up.”

“Eh, we can sleep on the plane.”

“Speak for yourself.” She sideyeed him before straightening. “So, here’s the hotel.” She grinned, eyes lighting up as she leant back a little so he could see the screen.

“Wow, looks fancy.” He bent closer. “Is that a turret?”

“It’s a traditional French chateau!” Sylvie near-squeaked, bouncing in her chair.

He snickered but kept his eyes on the screen, assessing the picture of the building with expert eyes.

“Looks like the real deal.” He praised before Sylvie shooed him back again so she could continue planning.

“Alright, I’ve sorted our travel to the hotel. Why don’t you find somewhere good for breakfast? I want to have a quick look in the bookstore, see if they have phrasebooks.”

“Don’t they all speak English over there?”

“Matt Casey. We are not going to perpetuate the terrible American abroad stereotype!”

He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I promise to try.”

She mock-glared at him; her stomach flip-flopping at the sight of his face lit up. As they parted to complete their individual missions, she asked herself if he was as excited as she was. She really hoped so. 

…

After a leisurely breakfast spent people watching and talking through potential activities in the Loire Valley, they settled into some seats to wait for their flight. Sylvie devoured the phrasebooks, mouthing things to herself and putting the book down every so often to practise. She insisted that Matt also learn some essential phrases but he deferred, saying he’d look at them on the plane. Meanwhile, he flicked through the guides Sylvie had also bought, folding over the corners on things he thought looked interesting.

The time was spent pleasantly and soon enough it was time to board. They were some of the last to board and Sylvie thanked years of slow shifts for her patience. Matt’s steady presence also helped to keep her entertained; both from his dry quips and through aesthetic value. Soon they were guided onto the plane and Matt graciously offered her the window seat, taking the middle seat and leaving the aisle one free.

Sylvie’s nerves began jangling once they’d settled into their seats. There was really no turning back then. Beside her, Matt flashed her a reassuring smile but her hyperactive senses caught the tension in his body as well. Swallowing, she busied herself reading the safety pamphlet until they started to taxi.

Once the flight took off, her nerves settled and Matt’s shoulders relaxed.

As promised, Matt looked over some essential phrases in the book, though he refused to practise out loud. Sylvie levelled tuts at him in between reading the guides and agreeing or disagreeing with his choices for activities. The onboard entertainment screens had some good movies which helped pass the time. 

Dinner was bland but edible, with a sweet chocolate pudding for desert.

“Better than Capp’s cooking.” Matt had commented.

Sylvie frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever had Capp’s food.”

“Good, keep it that way.” He advised, completely seriously.

“I’m really excited, are you excited?” She said once their dinner trays had been taken away.

He nodded, charmed that she hadn’t lost enthusiasm despite the long day. “You said you’ve flown before…”

“I remember every year we’d pack up the car and head down to our cousins. It was a two-day drive and we’d sing songs, play games, make each other laugh…” Sylvie recounted warmly. “One year my dad hurt his back so he couldn’t drive for a while. My parents would share the driving and my mom flat out refused to drive for the whole two days. So, we took a plane out. It was so exciting, though my dad was so nervous, kept spouting all the facts he’d memorised about plane crashes.”

She laughed and Matt joined her, taking in how her eyes twinkled and hands danced along with her words.

He asked her more about her brother and she talked happily, detailing some of the many hijinks they’d gotten up to at the farm. 

“How about you?” She asked. “What were your childhood vacations like?”

He hesitated, questioning how much she knew of his family. She’d been around for the smear campaign against him but he didn’t know if anyone had informed her of the exact story. Even if she did know, he wasn’t one to be flippant about ‘dad drinking away all the money and telling us we weren’t worth taking anywhere’.

She saw his hesitation. “Oh, shoot, sorry. I know you don’t like talking about your family.”

His stomach curdled slightly at that. It was true. But he didn’t want it to be, at least not with her.

A crowded flight was not really an ideal place to get into it though. In any case, he kept his answer short and vague.

“No, it’s okay. We stayed in the city mostly. I’d play with the other kids in the neighbourhood, getting into all kinds of trouble.”

“You? In trouble?” She asked, shoulders relaxing as she teased him gently. “Surely not.”

He laughed. “Jason could tell you some stories. But he won’t, sworn to secrecy.”

She hummed and mimed stroking her chin.

He considered for a moment, the good feeling in his chest loosening his tongue. “Okay, I'll give you ONE story.”

The way her eyes lit up was worth the embarrassment of relating teenage boy antics. A perfect example was the sorry tale of Matt and Jason being chased across the neighbourhood by the dog of Jason's crush; the result of Jason persuading Matt to join him in 'casually walking past' the house several times, the dog becoming annoyed by this and a loose chain on the yard gate.

Sylvie was laughing very prettily, encouraging Matt to offer more details. 

“I swear to you that thing was not natural. We were on bikes and it almost tore Jason off his!”

Still giggling, Sylvie offered in consolation. “Well, I am sure this trip will outdo all of our previous vacations combined.”

He agreed easily and they basked in a beat of comfortable quiet.

“I’m glad Cruz will keep his furlough to spend with Chloe. They are so good together.” She commented, sounding a little wistful.

“Yeah, it seems like everyone is pairing off.” Matt added, gaze going distant as he thought about it.

“Yeah.” Sylvie sighed.

“Except for Foster.” He added, eyes focusing back on her face. When she didn’t answer, he asked. “How are you? Really?”

Sylvie startled back into the conversation and the intensity of his gaze suffocated the placation that had been working up her throat. 

“Overall I’m okay. Just…I haven’t even mentioned this to anyone, but the morning after that night at Molly’s, when he told us he was moving, Kyle came to my apartment.” Matt’s eyes widened but he didn’t interrupt. 

She went on. “He asked me to marry him and move to Indiana.”

“Oh. Oh wow.” Matt replied, eyebrows raised high.

Sylvie managed a half-hearted smile. “Yep. I said no, obviously, but,” she sighed heavily, “it was hard. Part of me wonders, if maybe I should have said yes.”

“Why did you say ‘no’?” He asked neutrally.

“Well, I mean, my home is here, in Chicago. I left Fowlerton and a life of being a good housewife behind a long time ago and-” She cut her rant off, huffing a small laugh. “Okay so it wasn’t a mistake…it was just, hard.”

“I can imagine.” He murmured. “It’s tough to admit that something you poured _years_ of your life into, something so precious to you, isn’t right.”

She looked up at him curiously.

There was a beat before he took in a deep breath. “Can I tell you something I haven’t told anyone else?”

She asked, eyes wide. “Not even Severide?” 

Matt’s lip quirked a little. “Sev means well but well, we’re not great at heart to hearts as it is. And this…it’s hard to explain it, even to myself.”

Matt held her gaze as he said slowly but firmly. “Gabby left but I was the one who sent the divorce papers.”

Those soft eyes wandered over his face, spurring him on.

He sighed. “It hurt when she went but…I was relieved too. Our relationship, our marriage wasn’t working. Better that it ended before we stared to hate each other.”

Memories of her angry brows, agitated hand motions, shining eyes flashing through his mind and the familiar ache teased his heart again. A feather-light touch on his arm pulled him out of the reverie.

“I do know.” Sylvie said softly even as her gaze pierced him.

Sympathy was one thing, and Matt didn’t reject friend’s hugs and listening ears even if he wasn’t entirely comfortable with them; but this was different, this was _understanding_.

“You deserve every happiness the world has to offer.” She told him with a certainty that made his breath catch slightly.

He swallowed harshly. “Thanks, Sylvie.”

…

Soon after that, the main lights turned off, lending a calm to the cabin. It felt like the bunkroom at night: complete with snores, low-level talking and snuffling sounds.

Sylvie yawned daintily behind her hand.

“You should try and get some sleep.” Matt suggested lowly.

“ _You_ should try and get some sleep.” She countered childishly, just stopping short of sticking her tongue out at him.

“I will. I just want you to first, seeing as I can sleep through anything.”

“And I can’t?”

“I know the bunkroom snoring keeps you up.” He revealed with a flourish. At her frown, he explained. “Sometimes when I’m doing paperwork I hear,” he let out a high-pitched sigh.

“Shut up.” She shoved him playfully, unable to keep a straight face at the twinkling in his eyes. “Fine!” She acquiesced, unfolding her travel blanket and laying it over her lap. “I’ll sleep.” Her eyes narrowed though and she pointed a finger. “If you do too.”

He raised his hands in surrender and satisfied, Sylvie closed her eyes. She fell asleep quickly and Matt meant to follow her but… Even in the low light he could still make out the fan of her eyelashes, the contours of her face, her cream skin. She was so beautiful.

On an average day, Matt had similar thoughts about Sylvie at least a few times – even when they weren’t on shift, something would remind him of her, or he’d hear about her from someone, see her at Molly’s... She’d been on his mind in general. Normally, he didn’t indulge such thoughts, or well, tried not to but he was on vacation, surely a few minutes of Sylvie in his head wouldn’t be too bad.

Swallowing, he looked away. He couldn’t watch her sleep the whole time. Inching into a comfortable position, he tried to calm his heart rate.

In the row across from them, a young boy was loudly complaining to his mother that he was bored.

“You should try to sleep.” She tried to shush him.

“’M not tired.” He whined, kicking his little legs in frustration and making Matt’s lips quirk – didn’t that bring back some memories? Still, it wasn’t his business.

Then the boy cried out and Sylvie shifted in her sleep, brow furrowing a little; that made up Matt’s mind.

“Hey, kid.” He stage-whispered, getting the boy’s attention. “Wanna hear a cool story?”

After a grateful nod from the mother, Matt moved over to the aisle seat. Keeping his voice pitched low, he told a funny story about a little boy stuck in a tree. It was based on a real call: a seven-year-old had climbed it to rescue his cat – which had of course found its own way down before the firefighters arrived. Severide had harnessed up with Tony cutting branches out of the way of the aerial and coaxed the poor thing down with his usual ease. It had been calming the teenaged brother, who’d been ‘watching’ the kid, that was the hard part.

The boy gasped and laughed in all the right places, asking questions and demanding another story once Matt was done. Insides melting at the childlike enthusiasm, Matt complied happily, glancing back every so often to check that Sylvie hadn’t been disturbed.

Every time he saw her peaceful face, his heart softened a little more. 

…

The flight was on time, and landing was smooth. Sylvie was bouncing with excitement as they got off the plane; head swivelling to take in all the details of the French airport. Matt was less energetic, looking slightly tired around the eyes, but he was smiling.

They pretty much walked through Customs due to the early hour and collected their bags from the carousel along with arguing families and love-struck couples. Sylvie’s eye was caught by a particularly cutesy pair standing close to her and Matt. They were hugging each other, staring deep into the other’s eyes as they waited for their bags. Sylvie suspected that the pair had missed their luggage several times because they were so distracted. It was cute.

“See, the signs are in English.” Matt pointed out cheekily as they moved away to the exit.

“Under the French, you yank.” Sylvie elbowed him playfully, making him chuckle. Then she cleared her throat and got out her guide, turning it to look at the map.

“Alright so we need to get to Montparnasse station… It’s this way. From there it’s an hour train to St. Pierre des Corps and then we need to get a taxi to the hotel.”

“Did you take French in school?”

“No, why?”

“Your accent is…impeccarbuluh.”

Sylvie burst out laughing. “What is that?”

“Impeccable.” Matt said, frowning. “It’s the same in French. What?”

She just kept on laughing, her stomach starting to hurt. “Your accent.” Sylvie managed to force out through snorts. “It’s…hahaha!”

Matt’s lips jerked a bit as he suppressed a smile, pretending to take offence even as he guided her through the crowded hallways.

“Hey! It’s not that bad, is it? Sylvie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Matt, it is that bad. I don’t know, Casey is so good at so many things I really like making him bad at something. His Spanish accent in season 1 [I forget the episode] was atrocious and I love it, so, he also cannot pronounce French words either.  
> I did the maths and realised if I wanted a chapter per day of the trip, that would be 16 chapters [including before and after trip] so I want to increase my update rate to not take 16 weeks to complete this beast.  
> So you now get 2 days to vote, I will count votes for Ch3: on Mon 13th April around 9am CEST [EU time]  
> And I will try to update on: Wed 15th, but no promises.
> 
> Options for chapter 3  
> 1\. Matt has forgotten to pack his…  
> a) razor  
> b) pyjamas  
> c) board shorts/swim wear  
> [this is not an inconsequential decision: each item has a plot line attached to its absence]
> 
> 2\. Day 2 activities  
> a) reading/lazing around by the pool and exploring the grounds  
> b) bike ride in the countryside  
> c) visit the local town
> 
> 3\. In the evening, Sylvie receives a call from…  
> a) Foster + Stella  
> b) Ryan [the foster carer]  
> c) her parents
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> EDIT [13/4/20]: Votes have been counted and we have: 1) A 2) A 3) A  
> Will try to update on Wed 15th, have about 50% written so far so, fingers crossed


	3. Day 2: Loire Valley, France

Montparnasse station was sleek and beautiful: steel and glass cutting clean lines which rose high above the hustle and bustle of tourists, French travellers and station workers. Sylvie pouted a little.

“I was expecting more brick inside.”

Matt coughed to cover his laugh and then deadpanned. “Oh no, France is really failing to live up to your expectations. We should leave.”

“Tais-toi!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“It means ‘shut up’!” Sylvie explained primly.

“Oh, of course, an essential phrase we will probably use… constantly.” He teased her.

Instead of retaliating, Sylvie noted with a sly smile. “Vacation-Matt is a lot sassier than I expected.”

Matt shrugged, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. Humming knowingly, Sylvie changed the subject. “Did you know that there was an accident here in 1895? A train came into the station too quickly and it broke through the barrier and a window.”

“Really?” Matt blinked, interested.

Sylvie showed him the picture in the guide book. Sure enough the front part of a steam train was hanging out of the station.

“Oh God, was anyone hurt?”

“According to the book, the woman working on the newspaper stand outside got killed by debris but no one else suffered serious injuries.”

Matt glanced up at the nearest wall of the station, as if picturing the train hanging out of it. After a beat, he joked. “You tell me this before we’re about to get on a train?”

“It was over a hundred years ago. Don’t you believe the airline clerk that European trains are good now?”

They found their platform easily enough, Sylvie clutching the croissant she’d bought from a bakery stand on their way.

“It’s so disappointing when they answer in English.” She sighed ruefully, referring to the baker’s perfect English response to Sylvie’s slightly stumbling order in French. 

“Well this is an international station; they probably get more tourists than actual French people.” Matt tried to console her. She hummed sulkily before taking a bite of croissant.

“Oh wow,” she near-moaned, “this is really good.”

Matt cleared his throat, looking over her head into the distance; Sylvie had closed her eyes so didn’t notice his face flushing slightly. By the time she’d opened her eyes again, his expression was neutral and he made no comment as she wrapped the remainder to eat later.

They finally reached the platform and boarded. The train was half-full already with fellow tourists with the odd businessperson but Sylvie was happy by the width and size of the seats. Once they’d settled down, Sylvie sighed again.

Noticing Matt’s questioning glance, she explained. “It’s just a shame we’re in Paris but not really seeing it. The guide book has so much on it.”

“Well, we have to come back this way on our way to the Netherlands anyway, we could spend a day or two here.” He offered reasonably.

Sylvie smiled up at him. “I’m glad you agree. It would be a shame to come all this way and not go to the Eiffel Tower.”

He nodded and then the train started to leave.

..

The train was so quick that Sylvie hardly felt like she’d had enough time to appreciate the French countryside before they were arriving at St Pierre des Corps. Then they were in a taxi, speeding down green country lanes and passing a number of quaint cottages and farms. The taxi driver had the radio on and in between gazing at the views, Sylvie listened in vain, trying to understand something in the hyper-speed babble. Matt was also appreciating the countryside, at one point he pointed out a field of horses and they both watched the mares tossing their heads and feeding on the lush grass.

After about twenty minutes they were turning into a drive, passing a low brick wall where the hotel’s sign was proudly posted.

The drive was flanked by a row of tall trees, a few leaves gently falling in the mid-morning breeze. It felt like a natural, green tunnel. Soon the trees gave way to a large open lawn and they saw the hotel.

The main building was big and grand; the brick was yellow and pink in between large windows. The dark blue turrets added a sense of grandeur with the low brick wall perimeter reminders of the age of the property.

Sylvie found her breath catching at the sight. She felt like a character in a regency novel: all she needed was a horse and carriage and a corset.

She turned to Matt, face almost splitting with excitement. He grinned back at her.

When the taxi stopped, they got out to the sound of crickets chirping and a half-hearted breeze. The sun was warm on their faces and the clear sky hinted at higher temperatures later on. 

Quickly snatching her suitcase before Matt could even think about offering to take it, Sylvie half-walked, half-bounced up the stone steps and into the Reception. Matt was on her hip, chuckling under his breath.

“Bienvenue! Welcome!” A short, round man exclaimed from the Reception desk. He clapped his hands as he came around to greet them, beaming. “You must be Mr and Mrs Casey!”

Sylvie’s stomach plummeted and she parked her suitcase beside her. She glanced at Matt, who looked as surprised as she was.

“Ah, I’m Matt Casey,” Matt shook the man’s hand, “and this is Sylvie Brett. Both our names should be on the reservation.”

Not missing a beat, the man exclaimed. “Ah, yes, apologies.” The man stepped in to kiss Sylvie’s cheeks, “Mademoiselle Brett.”

“Oh, enchantée*.” Sylvie straightened her shoulders and smiled.

“My name is Olivier and I am the proud owner of this fine hotel. I hope we can make your stay a magnificent one!” The Frenchman declared, much to Sylvie’s bemusement and excitement.

“We’re excited to be here.” Matt answered, tilting his head at Sylvie. Stomach twisting for an entirely reason, she smiled back at him.

They followed Olivier to the desk, Matt biting his lip as their host took Sylvie’s suitcase before she could. Sylvie shot him a sharp look, as if sensing his amusement. They reached the desk and as Sylvie answered Olivier’s questions about their trip there, Matt glanced around the Reception. It was a big room with wide windows, lighting up the cream walls and making it easy to see the intricate carvings on the wooden furniture. It smelled like flowers and was clean and tidy. An encouraging sign.

Once he had checked them in, Olivier clapped his hands. “Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

Their rooms were on the top floor, wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling, stark against the light pouring in through the big windows. The colours were predominantly cream and wood brown, the furniture polished wood lending a rustic feel to the otherwise clean cut room.

Sylvie sighed happily, taking in all the details of her room: lavender sheets and a flower-pattern bed cover enhanced the sense of spring as much as the smell of fresh flowers on the coffee table. To her delight, she found more scenty things in the bedside drawers.

She and Matt had agreed to meet again in an hour so Sylvie shook herself from her reverie. Quickly showering off the plane smell and getting changed into fresh clothes, a strappy top and denim skirt, she smiled to herself. The trip had been a fantastic idea and it was only day two. She smirkingly took pictures of the room and sent them to Emily, even as a small part of her whispered she was glad everyone else had bailed. Feeling refreshed and energized, she put away a few clothes in the armoire and hummed as she ran her fingers over the aged wood. 

As much as she wanted to stay and admire everything, she was conscious that Matt was probably waiting for her. So she promised herself to take it all in later and snatched up the room keys on her way out.

Sure enough, as Sylvie stepped out of her room she saw Matt standing at the window in the hall, looking out at the grounds. He had also changed: now wearing a T-shirt and long khaki shorts. His hair was slightly damp and tousled; he must have towel-dried it, her mind supplied as she reached him. Ignoring the itch to run her fingers through his hair and trying not to breath in the pine smell of his shampoo too deeply, she began.

“So I was thinking we could…” Her excitement faded as Matt looked around distractedly. She asked. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered very unconvincingly, shaking himself a little and pulling his lips up, “let’s go.”

Eyes narrowing, she stepped closer. In the light from the window she could see all the lines on his face, the shadow under his eyes. “Did you sleep on the plane?”

Seeing that she wasn’t easily moved, he gave an inch. “A little.”

Big mistake. Sylvie narrowed her eyes. “So you’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine. I’m sure I’ll get my second wind once we get going. What do you want to do?”

“I want you to _not_ be a zombie the whole day. Look, it’s only about an hour till lunchtime, why don’t you take a nap?”

“Sylvie, I…”

“Just forty minutes. Come on, I’ll wake you for lunch and then we can go.”

He stared for a long moment. “If Vacation-Me is sassy, Vacation-You is bossy.”

She folded her arms and he huffed. “Fine. Just forty minutes.”

Satisfied with seeing him into this room, Sylvie wandered down to Reception. She felt a little tired herself so sat in a comfy chair and flicked through the leaflets on the coffee table. Using the list of activities they’d agreed upon on the plane, she selected the relevant leaflets and read more, researching travel websites to see what the reviews were like. A youngish-looking couple walked past and they smiled at her, though they didn’t stop for conversation.

Olivier appeared and happily answered Sylvie’s questions about the town and the activities she was interested in. He also gave her advice about places to stay in Paris for when they went back there.

“Where is your friend?” He asked after a while.

“Oh, he’s taking a nap before lunch, didn’t sleep on the plane.”

“And you are not tired?”

“Oh well, a little, but I got a good few hours so, I’m good to go.” Sylvie answered with a smile.

“You take good care of your friends,” he commented, “do you mind me asking why you have decided to come to France together?”

Sylvie explained about the idea for a last-minute destination trip and how their other friends had backed out without warning.

“So it’s just us but I don’t mind at all: Matt’s great.” Sylvie’s mouth kept on going. “He’s strong but also kind and he is always, always there for anyone who needs him: friends, family, a person off the street.”

Sylvie felt her smile fade from her face as she took in Olivier’s expression. It reminded her eerily of Emily for a moment.

“Dis-moi qui tu fréquentes, je te dirai qui tu es." He quoted and then translated. “It means: tell me who your friends are, I will tell you who you are. If Matt is ‘great’ then so are you.” He bowed his head. “I am glad to have you both here.”

Sylvie floundered for an adequate response “That’s a beautiful saying and we’re glad to be here too.”

He smiled mysteriously and took his leave.

Shaking herself, she glanced at her watch: it had been almost an hour. Feeling a little rested but also productive, she took her list and some pamphlets back up to their rooms.

Matt didn’t answer when she knocked.

She waited and then knocked again. Nothing. Biting her lip, she was about to try calling him when she heard movement. The door opened and Matt waved her in, looking harried.

“Hey, come in, just putting on my shoes.”

His room was similar to hers in style with the addition of a cute little window overlooking the grounds. Sylvie smiled to see the curtains and oval shaped wooden frame. The inside of the hotel felt as cosy as the outside felt grand. Pulling herself away from her gushing thoughts, she looked around the rest of the room.

Seeing the contents of his suitcase messily pilled beside it, Sylvie asked. “Everything okay?”

He waved her concern off, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on his sneakers. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just forgot to pack my razor.”

Her gaze automatically went to his chin and jaw. There was a little stubble there and for no reason, Sylvie imagined what he’d look like with more of it.

“I can get another one in town.” He said absent-mindedly, busy with his laces.

“Or…” Sylvie plastered on an innocent expression when he glanced up at her. 

Finished with his shoes, he stood. “Or what?”

She shrugged. “Or you could _not_ get another one.”

He considered it for a moment. “Huh. I guess so.”

She took the opportunity to give him a once over and found him looking a little more energetic… Hmm, still, it was probably best to avoid anything too strenuous.

Seemingly oblivious to her scrutiny, he asked “So, what do you want to do?”

“Well, Olivier said we can take some food from the guest’s pantry for lunch. I was thinking, lunch on the tables outside and then we could explore the grounds a little?”

“Sounds good.” He agreed easily.

As they made their way down the stairs, she asked in a faux-sales pitch voice. “Did you know there’s a cave aquarium?”

He chuckled. “I did not, that sounds like a must-see.”

“Oh it is.” She nodded seriously, lips twitched into a smile. 

…

The cave aquarium, or troglodyte aquarium as the sign called it, offered cool relief from the hot air in the grounds. Descending the stone steps, Sylvie took in the shapes cut into the rock: square-like holes where the light entered. Just below the stairs was a shallow pool filled with clear water and different types of fish. The splashing sounds combined with the reflected sunshine on the walls and ceiling, created a hushed, tranquil atmosphere. Delighted, Sylvie went over to the pool to watch the fish swimming around, becoming a little hypnotised by them.

She turned to see Matt assessing the cave much like he’d done Montparnasse station: eyes running over the structure with his mouth twitching as he judged it. Contractor-mode. Sylvie did _not_ consider it sexy. Definitely not.

Clearing her throat, she looked back down at the fish and a minute late he joined her.

“What kind of fish are there?” He asked, tilting his head as he watched them.

“Uh, I’m not sure. I think that one’s a goldfish?” Without a guide or notice, they passed some time guessing the species of fish; the guesses getting more and more unlikely as they went on.

“The 'Stripy fish' is definitely not a thing.” Sylvie laughed at one point.

Matt raised his eyebrows and insisted playfully. “Yeah it is, look, there’s one!”

Giggling, Sylvie shook her head. “Come on, there’s more to see.” 

There was also a greenhouse hidden alongside the roof, the lush green plants standing out against the grey stone walls, and a spiral-staircase in the old windmill above the chateau. The view from the top of the windmill was spectacular – green for miles around, with the little river by the hotel barely visible through the trees.

Sylvie took some snaps of the view and in the spur of the moment, managed to get a stealth photo of Matt’s profile against the skyline. That one she definitely wasn’t going to show to anyone else.

The climb had only made them a little out-of-breath, but Sylvie insisted they spend the rest of the afternoon in the deckchairs by the pool. Matt looked a little relieved as he agreed and they returned to their rooms to pick up their books. 

The couple that Sylvie had seen before were just leaving as they got to the pool, so everyone exchanged casual ‘bonjour’s as they passed each other. Otherwise, there were only a few other people lazing around with one swimmer doing laps.

Matt and Sylvie sat in some chairs a little removed from the pool area and put on sunscreen. Sylvie had a sunhat which she perched on her head, angled so it threw shadow on her book.

“What’re you reading?” Matt asked curiously.

Glad she’d left her trashy book in her suitcase, Sylvie showed him the cover. “True Crimes: 19th Century edition. It’s weirdly comforting to know that people have always been doing terrible things. You?”

After nodding in agreement with her comment, he told her in unfamiliar tone. “Gardening in Chicago: from organic veg to vertical growing.”

Intrigued, she mentioned. “Oh, I didn’t know you were a green thumb.”

He chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m not: hence the book. No, I wanted to broaden my horizons so to speak, so when I get a garden again I’ll know what to do with it.”

Sylvie thought a moment. “I didn’t know your old condo had a garden.”

“I had a house before that.” Now this tone she recognized; it was his ‘giving-you-bare-bones-info-so-you-don’t-dig-into-my-tragic-past’ voice.

Message received, she obliged. “Does it have a section on houseplants?”

“Uhuh, you can read it after.” He offered, intuitively realizing why she’d asked.

She winced. “Is my reputation as a plant-killer that bad?”

He looked confused. “Plant-killer?” Humor coming back he smirked. “Maybe I should keep this book away from you.”

Relieved the dark moment had passed, she just stuck her tongue out at him and enjoyed his answering laugh. 

It was difficult to actually read though. Despite Matt being engrossed in his book, Sylvie was hyper aware of him: the furrow of his brow as he concentrated, her strong, tanned hands holding the book, deft fingers flicking the pages every so often. She was even conscious of how his legs were stretched out, ankles crossed casually; his toes bounced a few times as he read – a tick she’d never noticed before.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at his face and tried to associate the bounce with a particular emotion; was it from interest? confusion? boredom? She tried to think back to anytime she’d seen him in the common room doing paper work; sometimes his legs were stretched out like that but she couldn’t remember seeing them bounce. So it couldn’t be from boredom…unless, did he like paperwork? Why didn’t she know if he did or not?

He shifted a little in the seat which startled her out of her study of him. Holding her book up a little higher to cover her face, Sylvie forced herself to only look at the page. 

After a while, her mind finally managed to focus on the book and she lost herself in the story as the sun drifted across the sky. 

…

The dinner at the hotel was a lot nicer than the one on the plane. Onion soup to start, sirloin steak with greens, and a divine crème brûlée for dessert. There were a few other couples around, plus a group of single friends at the far side of the dining room, but everyone kept themselves to themselves. Both Matt and Sylvie were pretty tired, so the conversation was limited to plans for the next day and how much they were looking forward to crashing out.

Back in her room, once she’d said goodnight to Matt in the corridor, Sylvie was changing for bed when her phone rang. She picked it up and blinked at the caller ID. Why was Stella calling her?

“Hello?”

“Hey, girl, what’s up?” Stella asked.

“How’s it going?” Emily added and Sylvie took in a deep breath, determined to stick to the travel bits of the trip.

“It’s really great so far! I can’t actually believe I’m in another country.” Sylvie gushed, telling them about the hotel, sights, sounds and the food.

“Uhuh and how’s your travel companion?” Emily asked with a familiar tone that set Sylvie on high alert.

“Matt? He’s fine.” Sylvie answered as casually as she could.

“Matt, huh?” Stella repeated.

Sylvie huffed. “We’re on vacation! I’m not going to call him Captain.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Emily conceded, before circling for another jab. “Have you seen _Matt_ in board shorts yet?”

“Do I want to know why you’re asking me that?”

“I’m asking for you, girl.” Emily declared. “Come on, you cannot deny that you’re interested in him.”

Sylvie made a choked sound but was interrupted by Stella’s wise voice. “Don’t bring up ancient history, there is no history when you’re on vacation.”

“Or ever!” Foster added. “Come on, Sylvie. You’re in France, like the most romantic country in the world. Surely there is no better time to admit the feeelings between you two.”

Feeling leagues more tired than before the phone call, Sylvie slumped onto the bed. “I hate you both.”

“Just speaking the truth my friend.” Emily defended.

“Sylvie.” Stella demanded flatly. “Tell us honestly you have no ‘more-than-platonic’ feelings for him and we’ll leave you alone.”

Lying down on her back, staring up at the pretty ceiling, Sylvie huffed. “Ok, maybe I have one or two, slight, romantic-ish feelings that involve him.”

“Was that English?” Emily asked, her voice quieter as if she’d turned away from the phone. Stella said something inaudible and Sylvie pouted.

“Look, it doesn’t matter how I feel, Casey just sees me as a friend.”

“Oh really?” Stella asked sceptically. “You won’t know till you ask.”

“Oh no, there’s a much simpler test.” Emily interjected. “Just wear a bikini in front of him, I am one hundred percent sure you’ll _see_ how interested he is.”

“Emily!” Sylvie admonished her, face heating up at the mental image. _Don’t! Don’t think about it!_

“I have to go now!” She lied through her teeth.

“Okay, just have a good time!” Stella called and Emily grunted as if elbowed.

“Yeah, relax, enjoy the sights. Send us more pictures!” Emily added and Sylvie said goodbye in a rush.

She hung up and clutched the phone to the chest, pressing her lips together as her mind whirled. She really didn’t want to be preoccupied with her inappropriate feelings for Matt whilst they were on vacation together, in a romantic hotel surrounded by couples and beautiful countryside. She also really didn’t want to prance around in front of him half-naked whilst he was also almost nude…

Except that she actually did.

And therein lied the problem.

Yawning, she put her phone on the nightstand and rolled over, trying to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *enchantée= nice to meet you [literally: charmed]  
> I am running out of ways to describe smiling, this is seriously bad, send help!  
> Montparnasse station accident info here: https://www.famouspictures.org/the-train-leaves-the-station/  
> First hotel is based on this beautiful chateau here:  
> https://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g315796-d317238-Reviews-or15-Chateau_de_Perreux_Amboise-Nazelles_Negron_Amboise_Indre_et_Loire_Centre_Val_de_Lo.html#REVIEWS  
> In photos of the cave aquarium there aren’t any fish but I think it was still under renovation at the time of the photo…it’s my fic, so whatever, there are stripy fish.
> 
> Votes for Chapter 4  
> 1\. Day 3 morning activities [they’ll visit the town in the afternoon]  
> a) canoeing in the river by the hotel  
> b) biking around the countryside  
> c) yoga on the hotel lawn
> 
> 2\. In town Matt and Sylvie lend a helping hand to…  
> a) a tired elderly couple  
> b) a lost child  
> c) a distraught tourist
> 
> 3\. At dinner, Olivier tells them a local legend about…  
> a) star-crossed lovers  
> b) the Dame Blanche [White Lady] who haunts the hotel  
> c) a woman who tricks an evil noble to save her village  
> [each story would have a different effect on Matt and Sylvie]
> 
> I will count the votes: on Friday 17th at 10 pm CEST [EU time].  
> And I will try to update on: Monday 20th, but as always, no promises.  
> Thanks for reading!  
> :D
> 
> EDIT: Votes are in: 1a, 2b and 3a+b got equal votes so you're getting two stories next chapter.


	4. Day 3: Loire Valley, France

Gentle sunlight filtered through the curtains and birds chirped somewhere outside. Cursing Emily and Stella’s teasing for her terrible night’s sleep, Sylvie groaned and rolled over; burying her face into her pillow. Surely it was the crack of dawn? Why was she awake? Glancing at her phone, she grumbled. No, closer to 8am. 

Well, who cared? She was on vacation. She snuggled further into the pillow and sighed. But didn’t fall back asleep.

Matt was an early riser. What if he’d been up for hours and was waiting impatiently for her?

Her eyes opened reluctantly. 

But no, he was a grown man. He didn’t need to wait for her to get breakfast.

Her eyes dropped closed again.

But she didn’t want him to feel abandoned…

Huffing, Sylvie forced herself to sit up. She messaged Matt.

_> You up yet?_

He replied a few seconds later.

_ >No._

Sylvie snorted, although she divined from his fast response that he was at least alert. She suggested.

_> Breakfast in 30?_

He sent back a thumbs up emoji and Sylvie bit back a smile. Everyone sent emojis, the fact that Matt had done it was no cuter than anyone else doing the same. Or so she told herself. Biting back a sigh at having to leave the warmth of the covers, she swung her legs off the bed and got up.

They met in the corridor about half an hour later. Sylvie was wearing her nice rose-coloured pants, a T-shirt with flowers on and a light cardigan in deference to the cooler temperature of the morning. Matt had on his long shorts and a baby-blue shirt. Sylvie was happy to see that he looked well rested. 

“Morning!” She greeted.

“Morning.” Matt returned with a gentle smile.

“So I decided a lot of yesterday,” Sylvie began as they made their way downstairs, “meaning it’s your turn today.”

Matt blinked like he hadn’t expected to be asked. “Oh, well, I thought we were going to visit the town.”

“True, but that’s in the afternoon. What do you want to do before then?”

He shot her a considering look before saying. “I did see that there’s a river here, with canoes.”

“Canoeing it is!” Sylvie declared.

Matt laughed.

After breakfast, Sylvie changed into her sportier pants and Matt put on his cap. They collected lifejackets and paddles from Reception, the woman at the desk also handing them a waiver which asked them to confirm they could swim.

“We don’t have a lifeguard on staff, so all canoeists must be in pairs and trained swimmers.” She explained in a heavy French accent.

“You don’t have to worry about us, ma’am,” Matt announced in his confident Captain voice, “we’re first responders.”

Sylvie nodded along, already feeling more energetic from Matt’s enthusiasm.

“Ever been canoeing before?” Matt asked as they got to the river.

“Once or twice.” She replied. In her home town, lakes were more for swimming and diving than using boats. “I remember liking it.”

“Do you know remember how to de-capsize a canoe?” He asked seriously, putting the paddles into the canoe.

“Only with another one to help.” She admitted, looking down a little worriedly at the boat.

He put a hand on her shoulder and waited until she looked up at him before reassuring her. “I’ve done it before, and anyway, we’ll be fine. In a nice, calm river like this we won’t go over.”

Together they pushed the canoe into the water and got in: Sylvie in front and Matt in the back.

Dappled light from the sun through the trees offered spots of heat in the otherwise cool and shady river. As Matt promised, the river was calm with barely a breeze disturbing the water. Around them birds sang and the trees along the bank rustled gently. The water was so clear that they could see the fish swimming along beneath them and they joked about the Stripy fish from the aquarium escaping.

They paddled unhurriedly for about forty minutes, the trees giving way to fields and farmland.

“This is familiar!” Sylvie called. “A lot like Fowlerton!”

Matt hummed interestedly and suggested they turn back. Together they managed to point the canoe towards the hotel and paddled on.

After a while, Matt asked Sylvie about her hometown. She told him stories from her childhood, getting into trouble with her brother in the various farms.

“If you think being chased by a dog is scary, imagine a bull-”

Abruptly, the canoe shuddered to a halt.

“It’s stuck on something under the water.” Sylvie called back over her shoulder. Matt tried to lean over to see without tipping the canoe as Sylvie bent her head to look closer.

“I think it’s some kind of webbing? Or rope?” Sylvie reported, putting her paddle down. Carefully, she shifted onto her knees and leant forward to reach into the water.

“Careful-” Matt started to warn as the canoe began to tip. Alarmed, Sylvie threw herself back but it was too late, the canoe tilted and then flipped over, throwing both of them into the water.

Bubbles burst around them as they tumbled over and the river engulfed them.

Matt held his breath, clutching his paddle, and managed to right himself quickly. Breaking the surface, he breathed in a lungful of air, fighting the panic back down. Blinking and wiping water off his face, Matt’s heart dropped as he realized he couldn’t see Sylvie.

“Sylvie!” Matt cried, treading water as he looked for her. She came up a moment later, gasping for breath.

“Matt?” She was facing away from him.

“Here!” He called, heart clenching as he swam over awkwardly still holding onto his paddle. She turned in the water and when he reached her they clutched at each other for a moment.

“You alright?” He asked urgently, eyes scanning over all of her he could see.

“Yeah.” She coughed out. “You?”

He nodded and then assessed the canoe. “Come on,” he urged her forward, “we gotta get under it.” They swam to the canoe and ducked under the edge, coming back up in the pocket of air created by the shape of the upturned boat.

It was dark and cramped; the only light coming from reflections in the water. Feeling along the front of the canoe, Matt couldn’t find anything restraining it so he concluded the tipping must have freed it from whatever they’d run in to.

Satisfied they could flip it back; Matt strained to read Sylvie’s expression as he talked her through it. She seemed a little shaken and hadn’t said anything since they’d gone under the boat. Eager to get back to dry land, Matt did the count and together they pushed the boat up and over. It went smoothly enough and Matt swam around the other side as Sylvie retrieved her paddle and put it in. On the count of three, they clambered back into the canoe. Once in, they took a moment to catch their breath.

“Let’s never do that again.” Sylvie panted.

“Agreed.” Matt replied breathily. “You sure you’re okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just a little winded. Come on, let’s get back.”

They paddled back to shore and hauled the canoe up the bank. Soaking and shivering despite the warmth of the day, they made their way back to the hotel.

Sylvie said sadly. “I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, no.” Matt frowned and wrapped an arm around her as they walked. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault the canoe got stuck.”

She didn’t look reassured. “Well, I’m still sorry.”

He rubbed her arm, deciding to give her a minute to process it.

Sure enough, by the time they got back, Sylvie had recovered her centre and stopped trying to apologise; in fact, she’d remembered that he’d predicted they wouldn’t tip over.

“You basically jinxed us.” She mock-accused, making Matt recoil with pretend offence.

“Hey! Don’t pin the whims of the universe on me!”

Olivier caught them as they were going up the stairs to the rooms.

“Monsieur Casey! Mademoiselle Brett!” He called out, huffing a little as he ascended behind them. If he thought anything of their state, he didn’t mention it, instead barrelling ahead with his news.

“Tonight we are having a special dinner! As there will be so few of us, the chef will prepare something _magnifique_ and we will gather together; telling stories and sharing parts of our lives and experiences with each other.”

“Aww, sounds great!” Sylvie gave a thumbs up.

“Yup.” Matt nodded, a little less enthusiastically. Olivier beamed and puffed back down the stairs. As they got to the landing, Sylvie elbowed Matt playfully.

“It’ll be fun!”

“I bet you twenty euros that it will not.” He shot back, unsuccessfully hiding a grin.

Sylvie narrowed her eyes. “Terms?”

She’d learned much from watching 51 betting, he thought as he replied. “We both have to smile for at least five continuous minutes and laugh twice each.” He eyed her closely and warned sternly. “No fake laughs.”

Making a ‘crossing heart’ motion, she bartered. “One laugh each.”

“A loud one.”

She grinned and held out a hand. “Deal.”

They shook on it, eyes dancing.

…

After they’d showered and changed, they took a taxi to the nearest town of Amboise. It was a quaint place that used to house French Parliament so it boasted many historical landmarks and places to visit. Olivier had insisted they visit it at least once during their stay.

It was a warm day and tourists were out in force, milling around the cobbled streets and into the many attractions. The taxi let them out a few minutes away from the main square and they joined the line of tourists walking into the centre.

Due to the crush of people, the two ended up walking almost on top of each other, bumping elbows and brushing arms. Sylvie apologized but Matt just shook his head good-naturedly and put an arm around her shoulder. For the second time that day, Sylvie thought to herself. Together they coordinated their steps, despite Sylvie’s insides bubbling at the contact, and managed to get to their first stop.

The Chateau Royal was over 500 years old and was largely intact: housing hundreds of pieces of history and exhibiting both the stately and functional rooms of the castle. Standing tall on the old city ramparts, it blended seamlessly into the neighbouring buildings yet the turrets could be easily seen anywhere in the town. The light grey stone and medieval design lent an almost magical air about it – at least to Sylvie.

It wasn’t that expensive to get in and it offered great views of the town and surrounding countryside. Neither Matt nor Sylvie was a history buff so they went quickly through the chambers with paintings and artefacts from different periods. They slowed down when walking around the grounds, however, leisurely enjoying the fresh air and sun on their faces.

They didn’t have a strong desire to see anything in particular, except for the most famous landmark. The Chapelle Saint-Hubert, aka the resting place of Leonardo Da Vinci, was a small building nestled on the edge of the ramparts. The little chapel stood out against the skyline on the elevated castle walls; white and grey brick lent a clean and holy look, with the intricate carvings and blue ceiling tiles making it:

“Beautiful!” Sylvie exclaimed. 

The place was more crowded than the rest of the castle, so they had to weave through slow moving groups and dodge running children. Getting a little frustrated, Sylvie took Matt’s hand and led him closer to the building. Belatedly, she realized what she’d done, the feeling of his calloused hand in hers sending jolts through her and her face flushing as she considered what he thought.

He followed her easily though and when she chanced a look at him, he seemed relaxed, happy. He caught her gaze and smiled in a way she’d never seen before – at least, never directed at her.

Sylvie almost swooned and was saved by a loud child screaming a few feet from them. Shaking herself, she continued on until they reached the chapel. She dropped his hand as they waited to go in, a long line slowly snaking in and out.

Once inside, they took in the faded paintings of biblical scenes, wooden shrine complete with carvings and a large painting at the front. It was a small space, Matt had to stoop slightly, but the hubbub of the outside was muffled; coloured light filtered through the stained glass windows, creating a calm, reverent atmosphere.

 _Not a bad place to be laid to rest_ , Matt thought. It had been a long time since he’d prayed in earnest and longer still since he’d attended church. Still, he could appreciate the symbols in the little room and remembered the comfort of being told that God was always with you. Over the years, he had lost the certainty of that conviction, but the memories of a priest talking about a caring Father and songs of love and joy held a fondness for him.

Sylvie was looking around with wide eyes and Matt wondered what she believed. Usually he didn’t like to ask personal questions just to sate his own curiosity, but with her, he didn’t think she’d mind. _Maybe later_ , he thought, as she took some pictures. After one last look, they left.

“It’s so crazy to think about the people that lived and worked here hundreds of years ago.” Sylvie commented, as they meandered to the Chateau exit. She could almost see the lords and ladies dressed in their finery, walking around seeming important, discussing laws, arranging marriages and pining for those they weren’t allowed to love. “I wonder what they were like?”

Matt hummed in agreement, though when Sylvie glanced at him, she could see he was focusing on the buildings. Emboldened by how well it had gone last time, she took his hand. He startled a little, but linked their fingers without comment, eyes soft.

“Yeah, makes you think.” He finally replied, voice a little hoarse. But he looked away before Sylvie could feel that pull again.

They came out of the chateau and began wondering the streets, looking for a place for lunch. Lots of people were still milling around and seemingly every café and restaurant was full. Sylvie wasn’t really thinking about food though. The longer they held hands, the more her courage grew.

Whilst it wasn’t unheard of for her and Matt to link arms or give friendly touches, this handholding thing was in a new ballpark. As much as she wanted to keep on denying the unnamed tension between them, deep down she knew it would be a disservice to both of them if they didn’t at least try to see where it could lead them. She’d felt so safe when he’d taken charge at the river earlier and his efforts to make her feel better afterwards just stoked the special warmth he inspired inside her. 

They turned into a narrow side-street, which according to the tourist map had a café at the end.

“Matt-” She began but stopped short when she saw his gaze harden.

“Hey, over there.” He pointed and she saw it too. Further down the street, there was a small girl crying. Sylvie looked around but couldn’t see anyone who appeared to be responsible for her. As non-threateningly as she could, she went over; Matt right behind her.

“Mama!” The girl cried out in between sobs. Sylvie made a calculated guess of the child’s nationality.

“Bonjour.” Sylvie called. The girl didn’t seem to hear her, still bawling into her fists. Sylvie knelt down. “ _Salut_. _Comment tu t’appelles?*_ ”

Slowly, the girl looked up, sniffing. “Marie.”

“ _Salut Marie, je suis Sylvie, et il est Matt_.” Sylvie replied in a gentle voice, indicating to herself and Matt. “ _Où sont_ …uh, your _parents_?”

“ _Je sais pas!_ ” Marie wailed, breaking into sobs. Heart breaking a little at the sound, Sylvie brought the girl into her arms. Sylvie looked up at Matt, whose brow was creased.

“If she’s French then she’s probably local, right?” He asked sensibly.

“I guess so.” Sylvie rejoined uncertainly, not wanting to assume anything.

“I’m looking up where the nearest police station is.” He explained, getting out his phone.

Sylvie tried to coax more information out of the girl, who was now pulling on one of her pigtails anxiously.

"The police station is across the river.” Matt reported before looking around. “Her parents can’t be far away. Maybe they were having lunch and she wondered off?”

Sylvie tried to ask her and they managed to establish that she had been following a dog before realizing she’d lost her parents.

Helping the girl drink from the water bottle in her bag, Sylvie worried. “It’s really crowded on the main streets and there are so many side streets.”

“How about we go ask at the café down here? At least they could call the police for us.” Matt suggested.

Sylvie agreed and held the girl’s hand as they walked over to the café.

The waiter didn’t recognise the girl but agreed to call the gendarmes. He let them sit on a free table as they waited. Matt watched as Sylvie used her best French to further calm the little girl, and he marvelled at how her innate goodness and charm came across even in a few words.

Before the police arrived though, a shout came from behind them.

“Marie!” They turned to see a man jogging up the street.

“Papa!” Marie cried, jumping out of her seat and running towards him. The father swooped her up into a hug as the mother joined them and they all clung to each other.

Matt bumped shoulders with Sylvie and she smiled back at him. After a moment, the father turned and addressed Matt and Sylvie. Matt didn’t understand the words, but recognised the familiar tone.

“ _De rien_.” Sylvie answered and waved at the little girl.

“Aww.” Sylvie cooed as the family went on their way. She turned to Matt, folding her arms and teasing. "So, you gonna make fun of me for learning French?”

"Wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied wisely. After a beat, his gaze on her face softened. “You were amazing.”

Blushing, Sylvie cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I _am_ hungry.”

Matt nodded to the waiter, who had come outside to see the reunion. “Then let’s hope this place is good.”

…

They got back to the hotel with a few hours before dinner.

“Well, that was quite a day.” Matt commented drily as they reached their rooms.

Sylvie hummed. She still wanted to talk to him about her ‘feeelings’ as Foster had put it, but was too tired. Instead, she suggested. “So tomorrow: should we check out the spa down the road...?”

Matt winced, leaning against the wall. “Ah, I’m not so sure about that.”

“Come on, when’s the last time you’ve…” She trailed off. “Wait, have you ever been to a spa?”

Matt raised an eyebrow at her, arms crossed, and she huffed. “Don’t get all heterosexual man on me. The spa is a healing experience for people of all genders and professions – you’ve gotten sports massages before, right?”

“A couple of times.” He acquiesced, pushing off the wall to stand up straight.

In general, he tried to avoid strangers touching him and only tolerated medical professionals when he really couldn’t take care of something himself. On a few occasions he’d had a soft tissue injury which hadn’t been serious, but had been prescribed a visit to a sports massage therapist to encourage healing. While he’d been able to trick his brain into relaxing under the clinical touch due to the medical context, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do the same in a spa situation.

“Okay, how about this? If you come with me, you can choose what treatment we both get.” Sylvie offered, crossing her arms and mirroring his stance.

“Do we have to get the same one?” He asked, considering the idea.

“Yes.” Sylvie replied instantly, sensing the trap.

He twisted his lip in protest of his devious plan being foiled. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Sylvie clapped her hands and grinned. In the face of that infectious smile, Matt was helpless to resist smiling too. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad with Sylvie there.

She had taken his hand a few times that day and he’d really enjoyed the feeling. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too high, but maybe she felt the same as he did. Most of the time he tried to keep a lid on his affection – wait, no point denying it to himself: his love – for her. Sometimes he thought he caught a glimpse of reciprocation but they’d never had enough alone time to figure it out for sure.

With that in mind, he’d gladly suffer a hundred strangers touching him if it led to more of Sylvie’s hand in his.

…

For dinner, as promised it was a smaller crowd; only eight of them including Olivier. They dined in the anteroom off the main dining room; a grand mahogany table was laid with antique plates, glasses and silver-plated cutlery.

The host sat at the head of the table, on his left sat the couple Sylvie had seen a few times, Maddy and Derek, and Matt and Sylvie were on the right. Beside Derek sat Axel, a retired German travel writer: “I can’t help the travelling bug though!” he joked jovially. On Matt’s right the last guests were two Swedish friends, Ebba and Ellie, who were apparently taking a well-deserved break from their husbands and families. 

The starter was black pudding and apple; which Sylvie hadn’t been too sure about but wasn’t as gruesome as she was expecting. Maddy sympathised with Sylvie’s hesitance.

“It’s a common dish in the UK, but I’ve never been a massive fan.” She’d admitted lowly before turning and saying more loudly. “Tell the chef I love the apples, Olivier!”

Matt liked it, shrugging off the unusualness: “I try not to think about where any of my food comes from anyway.”

Derek had agreed with him before telling them about the time he’d eaten kangaroo. Maddy and Sylvie had been appalled by this but everyone else seemed semi-impressed; this had sparked off a pseudo-competition about exotic foods everyone had eaten. Axel won easily: citing the time he’d eaten monkey jerky.

“I thought that was illegal.” Matt had commented neutrally.

“In many countries, yes, monkey meat is falling out of style. It was almost 40 years ago…” Axel told the story, thought Sylvie tried not to listen to most of it. Luckily, the next course was served and the delicious smell overpowered any queasiness Sylvie felt.

The main dish was coq au vin – a half-stew, half-chicken dish with bacon, vegetables, wine and cognac: “to add richness!” Olivier had explained.

Everyone enjoyed this one and it led to Ellie and Maddy comparing their best home-cooked meals for different occasions.

“I’m lucky,” Ebba claimed, “my husband is the chef in our house. I’m just the pot washer.”

“Do you cook?” Ellie asked Matt.

“A little.” He answered with a modest smile. Sylvie looked at him closely. She hadn’t tasted his cooking, though had heard through the grapevine that it was excellent. It was one of her 51-related goals to be invited to a dinner where Matt was cooking. 

As desert was served, sweet crepes with fruit, Ebba called down the table. “You promised us stories Olivier!”

“Yes!” Sylvie agreed, raising her glass. She was just finishing her first glass so was feeling a little loose, but no means drunk. Matt chuckled beside her, but tried to look innocent when she glanced at him.

“Well,” Olivier began in his rich voice, “I will tell you perhaps it is the most famous story of this beloved castle. It is a tale as old as time. Young lovers, separated by rank and politics, unable to find peace in this life.”

Sylvie forced herself to ignore Matt and focuse on Olivier’s tale. 

“Many centuries ago, this chateau was owned by Guillaume de Dicy, seigneur de Nazelle. He was a powerful man, at one-time president of parliament which then sat in Amboise. Although influential, he was prevented from his full potential, or so he thought, due to his religion. He was Protestant and the royals were Catholic. I don’t know how much you know about the Wars of religion, but they were an ugly part of our history.”

“Agnès was the Lord’s youngest daughter. By all accounts she was a beauty but also quick of mind, she was known to beat her brothers and even her father in word games. She was very much the apple of her father’s eye. When she turned 16, she attended court with her father and fell in love with a member of the royal guard.”

“His exact identity is much disputed – he was not a knight of the realm, but a member of the palace guard, so he was not of noble birth and records from that time were not always preserved. For this version of the tale we shall call him: Jean.”

“Agnès travelled to court many times during the winter of 1558 and the lovers used every opportunity to steal a few hours together. For those of you who have visited the grand chateau, you can imagine how many spots there are to hide away. The importance of secrecy cannot be understated, for Jean would never be allowed to ask for Agnès’ hand in marriage. She managed to refuse her father’s suggestions for matches for a time, but with her sister already married, it would have only been a matter of time.”

Sylvie could easily picture a lady and a knight ducking into a side room for quick, passionate kisses. She almost wanted to go back to the chateau with fresh eyes, to better see them in her mind’s eye.

Olivier continued. “The King died in the summer of 1559 and Agnès’ father, among others, expected his successor to relax the many restrictions on Protestants. They were disappointed, however, when the young king’s advisors exerted their control and the suppression of their religion continued.”

“Impatient for change, a group of high-ranking Protestants hatched a plan. In March 1560, they attempted to kidnap the King and arrest his advisors. It was in vain, however, with the help of their spy network, the royals already knew of the plot and the conspirators and their soldiers were defeated easily. 

“The King sent his knights and guard to this chateau to arrest Guillaume. Accounts differ slightly on the details, but we know that Agnès tried to help her father escape and was killed in the skirmish.”

“One of the King’s guard was arrested for treason and executed a week later, we assume this was Jean and that he had tried to help his love and her father.”

“The rest of the family fled North and lived out their days in exile. One of the King’s loyal subjects inherited the chateau and his descendants lived here for a century after that.” 

A sad silence hung over the guests.

Sylvie’s eyes stung as she keenly felt the ache of separation and the thrill of terror at a loved one in peril. It was almost too tragic to think about and she couldn’t imagine how either of the lovers had coped.

Something touched her foot. She blinked and turned to see Matt looking at her, a gentle bend to his lips. Comforted, she pressed her foot back against his. Someone was talking but Sylvie didn’t hear any words, instead lost in that familiar warmth. 

“Yes, it is a very sad tale.” Olivier’s loud voice snapped Sylvie’s attention away. Their host shook his head, continuing. “Many say that it is Agnès who is _la dame blanche_ that resides here.”

Maddy raised her hand as if in class. “What’s a ‘dame blanche’?”

Olivier beamed and exclaimed, hands waving wildly. “ _Les dames blanches_ are spirits. Some are natural, parts of the forest, like your English fairies. Others are spirits of the dead and these ones are more vengeful in nature.”

“Now, in the north of France, _les dames blanches_ are found in ravines and on bridges. They are mostly harmless, if you play their games.”

Sylvie put her elbow on the table, and rested her chin on her hand, leaning in closer as Olivier’s voice became hushed. Matt shivered beside her. Sylvie glanced at him but his face didn’t reveal anything so she settled back into the story. 

“They appear to travellers seeking passage and demand payment. Sometimes they want a dance, sometimes you have to solve a puzzle, or assist them in some other way. The dame blanche _ici_ , she is not a fairy on a bridge, but the soul of poor Agnès. It is said that she roams the grounds under the new moon, when night is darkest.”

The atmosphere in the room grew taught and it was so quiet in the gaps between Olivier’s words. Sylvie felt the hairs on her arm prickle.

“Guests have reported seeing a white figure by the river,” Olivier continued, “appearing and then disappearing without warning. Some even saw her in their rooms or down the corridor, cursing those who killed her father and her love.”

“Of course I have never seen such a thing myself,” Olivier concluded, chuckling a little. This broke the tension and everyone sat back.

“That’s quite a story.” Derek laughed lightly. Some others laughed but Sylvie noticed that Matt did not relax.

They all turned in not long after that.

As she and Matt reached the landing to their rooms, Sylvie had recovered enough to joke.

“Maybe the _dame blanche_ was the one who tipped our canoe.” She suggested with a spooky voice.

Matt took a second to react, sounding distracted. “Uh, yeah maybe.”

“You okay?” Sylvie asked, frowning.

“Oh yeah, just tired.” He answered as they reached their rooms. He opened his door and said abruptly. “Night.”

“Oh, goodnight-” She started to answer but was cut off as Matt disappeared into his room.

Huh, that was weird. She stood for a minute, trying to figure out the reason for his brushoff. The day had been action-packed, not only with lost children and dips in the river but with their growing closeness. Feeling a little dejected, she let herself into her room.

A little later, Sylvie lay awake, thinking about the lovers in that tale. She wondered how much of it was true. Hopefully Olivier had embellished a lot, Sylvie didn’t like dwelling too much on the tragedy of it all. On the other hand, wasn’t it better to experience such a fierce love than to not love at all?

Idly, Sylvie wondered what Matt had made of the tale, if he’d thought of it at all. Maybe that had been the cause of his abruptness; had it made him question this new intimacy between them? Less idly, Sylvie asked herself if Matt was reconsidering it, reconsidering how good an idea the hand holding really was.

Stomach twisting, she turned onto her side, hugged the pillow and tried not to work herself up. There was no point speculating, she would talk to him in the morning.

Just as she was drifting off, a scream broke the silence of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Salut. Comment tu t’appelles? = Hi. What’s your name?  
> Je suis Sylvie et il est Matt. Où sont tes parents ? = I’m Sylvie and this is Matt. Where are your parents?  
> Je sais pas = I don’t know!  
> De rien = It’s nothing.
> 
> I’ve not been inside the Chapelle – or don’t remember if I ever did – and could only find one picture of the interior so…poetic licence.  
> Whilst the Amboise Conspiracy did happen, I changed some names – I couldn’t find anyone involved who lived locally, most were powerful protestants from other regions – and I invented the lover’s story.  
> Coq au vin is one of my favourite French dishes it has everything I love: chicken, bacon, wine and the slow cooking really softens the vegetables.  
> Now don’t worry, the next chapter will have snuggling, for those of you who voted for that. 
> 
> Votes for Chapter 5  
> 1\. At the spa Matt and Sylvie get…  
> a) massage treatments [lots of skin contact]  
> b) mud baths  
> c) hot stone massage [mostly uses heated stones, minimal skin contact]
> 
> 2\. Matt receives a call from:  
> a) Christie and Violet  
> b) Severide  
> c) Naomi [reporter]
> 
> 3\. A fellow guest at the hotel hits on…  
> a) Sylvie  
> b) Matt  
> c) both of them [threesome proposal]  
> [tone will remain light-hearted, no harassment in any scenario]
> 
> I will count the votes on Tuesday 21st April at 10pm CEST and hope to update on Friday 24th.  
> Thanks for reading!  
> :D
> 
> EDIT: Results: 1b, 2b, 3a. Coming up: Mud baths, Severide call and jealous!Matt.


	5. Day 4: Loire Valley, France

Sylvie bolted up. The scream had been short-lived but sounded terrified. Gut twisting, she forced herself out of bed and grabbed her phone. Tentatively pulling her door open, she turned on the flashlight function and steeled her nerves as she left her room.

There weren’t any lights on in the hall so she could only see what was illuminated by her phone.

Matt’s room door was open and he almost collided with her as she walked past.

“Sylvie!” He exclaimed, hair tufted up and eyes startled. “Are you…?”

They heard a muffled shout from down the corridor and another door opened.

“She was there!” Came a shriek and Maddy flew out of the room, Derek following awkwardly.

“Who?” Sylvie asked. Ella and Ebba came out of their rooms, both dressed in identical dressing gowns. The hall lights went on and Sylvie turned to see Matt walking away from the light switch. 

“The ghost! The dame thingy! She was in our room!” Maddy cried.

“Oh, uh, well, it probably wasn’t…a ghost.” Derek tried to reassure her, his own eyes darting around uncertainly.

“Nonsense!” Ella contributed.

“Yes, it was probably just a reflection from the moonlight.” Sylvie suggested.

Maddy looked at her a little desperately. “You think?”

Sylvie widened her eyes at Derek who started. “Uh, yeah, definitely babe.” He rubbed her arm and she calmed a little.

“I just…thought I felt something, unnatural.” She explained and no one seemed sure how to respond to that.

“Why don’t you go and make some hot coco in the guest kitchen?” Ebba proposed. “To calm the nerves a little.”

As the couple dithered, Ella declared. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“Yes, let’s go.” Ebba agreed and they went off, Derek and Maddy trailing behind.

Sylvie smiled at the inherent maternal nature of the two friends. _Huh, well that had been mildly entertaining._ She lowered her phone and turned to Matt. She froze. She couldn’t be sure in the dim hall lights but he looked a little pale.

Concerned, but knowing he’d never admit to being shaken, she made up the first excuse she could think of. “Hey, uh, there’s uh…a spider, in my room. Would you mind?”

“Uh, sure.” He followed her back to her room unquestioningly – with no light teasing or anything

Only feeling a little foolish, Sylvie pretended to direct him to where she’d seen the ‘spider’. He looked around for a minute, before pulling back and shrugging.

“Well, it must have gone then.” She suggested.

Looking around the room a little aimlessly, Matt nodded but made no move to leave. Heart aching a little, she realised that he didn’t want to go.

“Hey, I’m sorry if this sounds… wimpy, but would you mind, staying a little longer?”

He didn’t laugh, instead nodding seriously. “Of course.”

She indicated to the bed and they sat down.

“And it’s not wimpy.” He corrected her after a beat, sounding more present. “Plenty of people don’t like, creepy, supernatural stuff.”

He rubbed his thighs as he talked and something in Sylvie’s brain suddenly clicked. “Like you.”

His head jerked round to her and he hesitated, as if waiting for something. When she didn’t say anything else he nodded slowly. “When we were about 9, the brother of one of Jason’s friends worked in the local video rental store.”

Sylvie saw where the story was going. “Oh no.”

Matt nodded wearily. “Yeah, he snuck us a copy of _Poltergeist_ which we watched when Jason’s mom left for her night shift.”

Sylvie winced.

Matt concluded with a frustrated hand gesture. “One of my deepest regrets. I couldn’t sleep for weeks and of course I couldn’t tell my mom what I was having nightmares about. Ever since then, I can’t stand supernatural stuff. Give me a working fire or an active shooter situation – I can handle it, but a ghost.” He shuddered before sighing heavily. “Sorry, I know it’s stupid: a grown man, afraid of …”

“Hey, who was telling me not to call myself stupid this morning?” Sylvie interrupted him. Mouth snapping shut, he regarded her a moment before his shoulders came down from around his ears.

“It’s not stupid.” She affirmed, relaxing when she saw he was unwinding more. “In fact it’s kind of cute.” She said without thinking.

Matt looked at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “It is?”

“Yeah.” She replied in an attempt at casualness, praying he didn’t read anything into it. 

After a beat he said in a quiet voice. “Well, I’m glad someone thinks so.”

Sylvie shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She saw that Matt was about to suggest he leave, so said. “Hey, I’m cold, let’s get under the covers.”

“Uh…” He replied wordlessly. His expression much like the time she’d told him they should be dating.

“For warmth.” She rationalised, barely biting back the ‘dummy’, not sure how he’d take light teasing just then. Not waiting for him to agree or disagree, she stood and started pulling on the cover. He jumped up to avoid her hand ending up under his butt and didn’t say anything as he joined her on the bed. They settled sitting up against the headboard with the cover around their necks.

“This is my first sleepover in a while,” she began conversationally before pausing, “wait, have you ever had a sleepover?”

“See my reply about spas.” He quipped. 

“Okay, I won’t start a pillow fight then.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought those were just in the movies.”

She smiled mysteriously. “Oh, did you?”

He chuckled and shifted a little. Their legs brushed and Matt stiffened in silent apology.

Starting to feel awkward, Sylvie admitted. “I actually love scary movies. Give me jump scares and creepy images all the day long, I just eat them up.”

“Why?” He asked, sounding interested and not judgemental.

“I’m not sure…something about being scared but not in danger I guess. Gets the blood pumping. What movies do you like?”

“Uh… I don’t really have a preference.”

Sylvie turned onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Not really a movie guy. I don’t think I’ve ever watched one by myself.”

“Not even when you’re just channel hopping and…oh wait-”

“There’s always a game of something on.” He confirmed, smiling a little self-deprecatingly. 

“I wish we had hot chocolate.” Sylvie huffed after a minute. “This isn’t really giving you the authentic sleepover experience.”

“It’s fine.” He offered. “Although I hope on this trip we get to do something that _you’ve_ never done before.”

“I’ve never been to France before.” She joked.

He laughed. “Check.”

In the beat of quiet, she assessed him stealthily. He’d regained his usual colour and seemed fully relaxed. Mission Comfort Matt: Accomplished. The gentle moment was broken when he yawned.

Gathering her nerves, she said. “If you’re genuine with your offer, I’ve never been the big spoon before.”

He raised an eyebrow consideringly but she wasn’t cowed. “So roll over.” She flicked her finger as she ordered him.

He chuckled. “Okay, okay!” He shifted onto his side, looking at her over his shoulder. “Bossypants.”

“Right back at ya, Sassypants!” She retorted even as she positioned herself behind him.

“Here.” He lifted up his pillow. “Put your arm here.” She slid her arm underneath, pressing up against him, legs folding in behind his. His breath caught and Sylvie’s eyelids fluttered as her breasts pushed up against his back, but neither of them mentioned it.

“That okay?” He asked as he lowered both the pillow and his head back down.

“Yeah.” She confirmed and snuggled in further, her other arm draping over his waist.

They both shifted, getting comfortable. “Thanks.” He murmured.

Gradually, their breathing slowed and aligned. Sylvie felt something and then realized: Matt had placed his hand over hers. Suddenly fighting back tears, she pressed her forehead against the nape of his neck and squeezed her eyes shut.

This really wasn’t the right order of doing things, Sylvie thought idly, once she’d pushed the tears back fully. Pressed up against him though, inhaling his familiar scent and soaking in his warmth, she found she didn’t care. They’d talk in the morning.

For tonight, she just wanted this.

…

In the morning, Matt woke slowly. At first all he registered was being warm but then something rubbed against him and a gentle wave of pleasure washed over him. His arm tightened over the person laying across his chest and he smelled something faintly fruity. Sylvie ground down on his crotch and his other hand moved to her ass to…Wait. Sylvie?

Oh.

Oh!

He’d thought that by agreeing to let her sleep behind him, they’d avoid awkward boners. Hubris was a _bâtard._

He spluttered and her head snapped up – the startled look on her face causing his hands to jerk away from her. She made a little choked sound and leapt up.

In her scramble to get away, her knee connected sharply with his hard-on. Sylvie yelped in apologetic panic and Matt sucked in a pained breath – all thoughts consumed by the white light flashing in his inner eye.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean…I’m sorry!” Sylvie babbled, hovering uncertainly by the side of the bed. It would have been amusing if he hadn’t been in so much pain.

Recovering some composure, Matt managed to choke out. “It’s okay, just, gimme a minute.”

“Of course. Ice! I’ll get ice!” She disappeared into the en suite for a moment as he curled up into a ball.

Sylvie darted out with a damp washcloth. “There isn’t any ice.”

Matt lifted his head with a great effort and just kind of looked at the wash cloth. Awkwardly, Sylvie lowered her hand.

“You know, I’m just gonna go back to my room.” Matt said, voice almost back to normal. He hauled himself up and hobbled to the door. Sylvie moving to help before aborting the action, face creased with worry.

“Okay, see you later.” Sylvie called just before the door swung shut.

…

Trying not to feel like a coward, Sylvie messaged Matt that she was going for a jog around the grounds. They’d spent a lot of time together the last few days, it was healthy for both of them to have a few hours apart. Especially after their conversation the night before and the unfortunate accident that morning. God, she felt so bad about that.

The sky was overcast and there was a stiff breeze as she left. Setting a swift pace, she tried to focus on the nice scenery or dark clouds on the horizon instead of what she’d left behind at the hotel. Instead of the sex dream she’d been having just before realizing that she was grinding down on her friend.

Morning boners were a sign of good health for men, but rutting on them was not a normal thing for women so she didn’t have a medical excuse. Also it wasn’t normal to think about the _size_ of your friend. Although it had been a long time since she’d… _No, Sylvie, don’t think about that_.

Her circuit took her to the river and she fondly remembered their adventure on the canoes. He’d been so nice and comforting and oh God, how had she repaid all that?

The sky rumbled and she shivered even as she ran. She hated the thought that their vacation could be ruined by one stupid moment. 

One lap of the grounds was enough and as she came back to the hotel, decided to go back and face the music. Matt deserved a proper apology at least.

She was stretching on the steps when someone came down them.

“Derek!” She called, trying to force a pleasant, untroubled smile onto her face. “How’s Maddy?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Just sleeping in. Actually I wanted to thank you for helping calm her down there.” He smiled winningly. “It was really impressive how cool and in control you were.”

“Oh, well, thank you but it was nothing.”

“No, don’t underplay it.” He stepped closer into her space, dark eyes glinting despite the clouds over the sun. “This might sound odd but I wanted to repay the favour.”

Sylvie kind of hummed, unsure whether he was coming onto her or if he just wasn’t one for personal space.

“I noticed that you and Matt don’t uh, touch that much – Hell, you’re not even staying in the same room – so I wanted to check that everything was okay.”

“Huh?” _Oh, this is invasive,_ she thought. Then she cursed not establishing at dinner the previous night that she and Matt were just friends. Although, she supposed this guy would have taken that as an invitation.

“I mean if you want to talk about any problems you might be having…”

“Derek…” Sylvie interrupted him, not even sure what she was going to say.

“I know, I’m a stranger but sometimes it’s what you need.” He was definitely a lot closer now, almost looming over her. It wasn’t so much his height, as he was only a little taller than her, more of his body language. Unfortunately, it was behaviour she recognised.

“A little understanding can do wonders.” He added in a low voice. Right on cue, the wandering eyes came in. It was a familiar routine and she felt her patience break.

“Me and Matt are deeply in love and our relationship is as close to perfect as it can get!” She burst out, just shy of angry. “So thanks but no thanks.”

“Everything alright?” A deep voice came from behind Sylvie. Both of them looked to see Matt walking up.

Too relieved to be embarrassed, Sylvie sighed. “No, babe, everything’s fine.”

As quick as always, Matt played along. He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her on the forehead. Sylvie’s breath caught and she fought to keep her heartrate down.

“Morning, Derek. How’s Maddy?” Matt asked, an edge to his voice. Sylvie felt how tense he was and leaned into him; his grip around her tightened not unpleasantly.

Derek stammered, avoiding eye contact. “Oh, she’s fine, still sleeping. Well, I better get back to her.” He turned tail and practically ran up the steps.

Sylvie looked up at Matt and caught his expression. _Wow, no wonder Derek had fled._

Matt blinked and his face softened as he asked. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded and let go. She tried to ignore the coldness of the empty space between them. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, I was more worried about him.” Matt tilted his head, smile playing on his lips. “I mean, you did knee me in the crotch and then run away. Who knows what you could do to a guy like Derek?”

“That was an accident!” She rushed out, feeling stricken. “And I wasn’t running away! I was jogging, for exercise…” She trailed off, pointing an accusing finger. “You’re teasing me.”

He grinned and she felt a surge of relief even as she whacked at him. This was Matt, of course he wouldn’t stay mad at her for an accident. 

“You better not tell anyone about this.” She warned him, mostly-joking.

“Are you kidding me? I’m taking this to the grave.”

“I am sorry.” She iterated firmly.

He waved her off. “Accidents happen. So, our spa appointment is booked for 11.”

Sylvie glanced at her watch. “Great, plenty of time to shower and have breakfast.” She beamed up at Matt. “What treatment are we having?”

“It’s a surprise.” He tapped his nose.

Excitement bubbling up inside her, Sylvie jogged up the stairs and clapped her hands. Matt followed, laughing.

…

The spa was also in a chateau, though it didn’t look as grand as their hotel.

As the taxi pulled up, Matt finally gave in to Sylvie’s puppy dog eyes and told her what treatment he’d booked for the both of them.

“Mud bath?” Sylvie repeated faintly.

“Yeah, I figured it was unusual and sounds fun…” He trailed off at her panicked expression.

“What?”

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t think you need one.”

“You’re going naked?”

“What?” Matt scrambled to get the brochure out of his pants pocket. “It does _not_ say anything about being naked!”

Sylvie looked over the description and huffed a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s just a mud wrap.”

“There’s a difference?” He asked, staring at the brochure as if it was going to jump up and bite him.

Smiling, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, they’ll probably give us paper underwear.”

She got out as Matt choked. “Paper what?”

The inside was a typical spa setting – light, cool colours, a trickling fountain and relaxing music playing in the background. They were greeted by a softly-spoken woman called Isabelle who took their names and showed them to the treatment room.

It was an L-shaped room with two massage beds set up with towels and plastic sheeting. Around the corner was a shower cubicle and a toilet with a sink; a large closet contained a small safe and clothes to change into.

Sure enough, along with the slippers and fluffy bathrobes were two packets of paper underwear.

Once Isabelle had left them, Sylvie turned to Matt.

“Uh, Matt, did you get some kind of couples deal?” She asked, taking in the two beds.

Still staring at the underwear, Matt murmured. “Don’t think so.”

“What exactly did you say when you were booking?” Sylvie asked, holding onto the amusement of Matt being out of his depth so as to not deal with the awkwardness of sharing a room to change in.

“I just said that me and my friend wanted the mud bath thing.”

“With or without exfoliation?”

He just looked at her. “Uhhhh, I’m gonna say, with?”

Sylvie couldn’t help her wide smile; he really was cute when he was flustered. She was so used to seeing him calm and in control, it was a nice change. Breathing in deeply, she cast out her discomfort – this really was no different from unisex changing rooms. Taking pity on him, she laid a hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry, we’re the clients. They won’t force anything on us. When she comes back in, I’ll ask her to explain everything so we know what will happen.”

He nodded along, the relief stark on his features. Sylvie squeezed his arm. Then she pulled away and took the underwear and robe into the toilet cubicle. Once they were both changed, Isabelle came back in with Jean, who looked very much like a personal trainer who’d been in Sylvie’s spin class. He bowed his head at her and Matt; Sylvie was charmed but Matt still looked uncomfortable, eyeing Jean’s thickly muscled arms.

At Sylvie’s question, Isabelle happily explained how the treatment would work. “First, we will exfoliate your skin with our own special formula. Then you will use the shower to wash off. After that, we will apply the mask and wrap your bodies in plastic and towels to keep the heat in. After 15 minutes, we will unwrap you and you will wash off the mask, feeling rejuvenated and like _nouvelle*_.”

Matt’s eyebrows were both a little raised but when Sylvie glanced at him, he just nodded. Watching determination defuse onto his face, Sylvie bit back a smile.

The first two phases went by quickly: Isabelle rubbed the exfoliation scrub onto Sylvie and Jean took care of Matt. There wasn’t really an opportunity to ask Matt how he felt about that, but when they got up to rinse off, he looked calm and smiled back at her.

The rubbing of the mask onto their skin felt heavenly and Sylvie couldn’t help but grunt quietly when Isabelle worked out a knot in her upper back. It had been a long time since she’d had a proper massage. Once the mask was rubbed in and all parts of their bodies were wrapped, Isabelle and Jean left. Only the sounds of the rainforest sounded in the room.

Humming in contentment, Sylvie wondered how Matt was doing. Opening one eye, she turned her head slightly but still couldn’t see him.

“Psst…Matt!” She stage-whispered.

“Mmmm?”

“You okay?”

“Ssshhhh…I’m cleansing.” He murmured back, sounding drowsy.

Well, if he felt comfortable enough to snark, he had to be fine. Sylvie relaxed back down.

Later, once they’d rinsed off and thanked their therapists, Sylvie nipped to the bathroom. When she came out to the foyer, she saw Matt talking to Isabelle. It didn’t look like a come on, Matt had his ‘interested’ face on and didn’t look at all uncomfortable. So Sylvie slowed down, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

“I’ll try that, thanks.” Matt was saying.

“We have some at Reception, you can buy some on your way out.”

“Great, uh, merci.”

“De rein." The beautician smiled before sauntering away.

Sylvie just tilted her head questioningly until Matt noticed her.

“Ah.” He reached up to touch his chin and then forced his hand back down again. “Beard’s itching. Isabelle recommended a beard oil.”

Sylvie took the opportunity to study said beard. It was more like long stubble at the moment, slightly darker than she had been expecting but not unappealing.

“Well, good.” Sylvie said, unable to think of anything witty. She helped him pick out an oil and they went back to the hotel. 

…

Well, that had gone a lot better than he’d expected. Matt thought as they arrived back at the hotel. He hadn’t been entirely comfortable with another man’s hands on him, but the clinical and far-from lingering touch, as well as the scrubbing sensation of the exfoliation formula did a lot to appease his wariness. Being wrapped like a mummy was a ridiculous idea in theory, but the music, the gentle rhythm of the work and a sense of security actually made it pleasant. He’d even drifted a little and been disappointed they hadn’t had longer to enjoy it.

Not that he would start doing them on the regular or anything…

He agreed with Sylvie’s suggestion of resting before lunch – ‘to let the mud really do its work’. As Matt had been changing, he’d checked his phone and seen a missed call from Severide. There’d been no new voicemail messages, so it couldn’t have been urgent. On the other hand, it wasn’t like Severide to just call to ‘check in’. Once back in his room, Matt called him back.

“Hey! How’s the adventure?” Severide asked cheerily.

“Did Stella put you up to this?”

“What? Why would you ask that?”

“Because I know you.” When Severide only laughed, however, Matt relented. “It’s really good actually. We’re having lots of fun.”

“Tell me everything.”

So Matt did – though he avoided relating the sleepover, the mishap that morning and most of his thoughts whilst being around Sylvie. When he related the spa visit, Severide guffawed.

“Really? You in a spa?”

Feeling a little defensive, Matt fronted. “It’s actually really good to get rid of toxins in…”

He gave up as Severide just laughed down the phone. 

“You haven’t had to dip into your emergency money have you?”

Matt remembered the inner pocket of his suitcase where he’d stashed his backup card for emergency funds, in case his main card and cash were stolen.

“No.” He answered warily. “Why?” 

“Well with all of these luxury spa visits, I was wondering if you’re gonna make it another ten days.”

“Shut up.” Matt admonished him.

“Seriously man, sounds like you’re pulling out all of the stops.”

Matt sighed. “I know you want me to just ask her out-”

“For months, yes, I’ve wanted that.” Severide interrupted unhelpfully.

“-but it’s not that easy. What if she says no? Or we try and things don’t work out?”

Severide’s serious voice came out. “Okay, look, nothing is guaranteed, ever. We all know that. But think about this: is Brett really the kind of person to hold a grudge? Or be awkward with? Even if you go out and it doesn’t go anywhere, no way will you lose her as a friend.”

Matt sat down on the bed, staring at the weird oval window in his room.

“Guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Just keep up the courting and when you feel the ‘pull’, tell her how you feel.”

Matt twisted his mouth, wincing at Severide referencing the moments of tension Matt had felt with Sylvie.

He sat up. “Wait, I haven’t been _courting_ her.”

Severide just laughed and hung up. Pulling the phone down, Matt cursed and shook his head.

…

After another picnic lunch, Matt and Sylvie spent most of the afternoon at the pool. It wasn’t overly hot, but the clouds had passed and the sun was shining.

As he hadn’t exercised in the morning, Matt did laps as Sylvie read. Well, tried to read. Even though Matt was mostly submerged, she could still see his arms as he swam and he was attractive even with his hair wet and plastered on his face. He was also wearing short swimming trunks, which weren’t tight enough to be obscene but did leave a lot of leg uncovered. Damn, how did he have such nice-looking legs?

Sylvie had her bathing suit on under her large, summer shirt but was content to half-watch him. Her hand itched to get her phone and take multiple pictures to document the occasion. Using all her self-control she refrained.

Derek and Maddy came down and sat on the opposite side of the pool to Sylvie. She exchanged nods with them but otherwise none of them made a move to socialise. Once he’d finished his latest lap, Matt glared at Derek, who hastily buried his face in a magazine. Matt climbed out of the pool, muscles rippling as he did so and he all but prowled over to Sylvie.

Unable to take it anymore, she pretended to get a text and took a stealth photo of Matt. She managed to quickly lower it again, heart rabbiting in her chest, as he collapsed onto the deckchair beside her.

“You were swimming a long time.” Sylvie commented idly.

“Haven’t done it in a long time.” He explained through pants, wiping his face with his towel. “Wanted to blow off the cobwebs.”

“You looked fine.” She rejoined, turning back to her book. She felt his eyes on her but when she glanced back up he looked away quickly.

Olivier came out and made the rounds, talking to everyone.

“I am terribly sorry for my scary story,” he said to Matt and Sylvie, “I did not mean to inconvenience anyone.”

“Oh, it’s fine Olivier,” Sylvie reassured him, “we didn't have any problems.”

Matt nodded. “Best sleep I’ve ever had.”

Sylvie swallowed her tongue and forced herself not to react to that.

Olivier beamed and clapped his hands together. “Merci! You delightful people!”

After he swanned off, Sylvie glanced at her watch and put her book down. “Okay, so: dinner.”

He turned to look at her attentively.

“As much as I love Olivier…” Sylvie began, trailing off hopefully.

“Let’s go out.” Matt agreed.

They settled on a restaurant the same side of the river as the hotel: Les Platanes. It boasted classic French cuisine and was highly rated on the travel websites. As it was only a 30-minute walk, they set out along the quiet country roads, occasionally sidestepping onto the grass to avoid taxis and cars. It was still a pleasant journey though and prompting more of Sylvie’s country-girl stories.

The restaurant, was small and quaint; by the side of the main road, with green and white decorations and wooden furniture. A finely dressed waiter greeted them at the door and they sat near the back. It was still early by French standards so it wasn’t too full with people.

Eager to test their French and confident their phrase book would help them, Sylvie insisted they only needed French menus and not the English translations.

Matt pursed his lips in amusement but didn’t argue, instead setting about making her laugh.

“Mule fright?” Matt read aloud.

“ _Moules frites_.” Sylvie corrected. She checked the phrase book. “Fried mussels.”

“What’s ‘steak hatch a cheyval?’?” He pronounced carefully, and wrongly, keeping an eye on Sylvie’s face.

Suppressing a smile, Sylvie checked the book. “ _Steak haché à cheval_ is…oh,” she sat back, surprised.

“What?” Matt frowned.

“It’s horse.”

“Huh.” Matt said neutrally, watching Sylvie’s expression morph into a pout. “What?”

“Who would eat a cute horse?”

“You don’t think cows are cute?”

“Oh shush! I’m a farm girl, I am aware of the reality of eating meat but…I mean, they’re horses!”

Sensing genuine distress from her, Matt offered. “Well, I’m sure they all had long, fulfilled lives.”

She made a face at him and he held up his hands innocently. “Don’t look at me, I’m going to have the salmon.”

Huffing, she ordered the sea food pasta and started a new conversation. “So, what are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

“I’m interested to see what the aquarium is like; wonder if there’ll be any of our favourite fish.”

She smiled at the in-joke.

“You?” He asked.

“The wine tasting, I think it’ll be good.”

Matt shrugged. “I’ve never really been a wine drinker.”

“Well maybe the tasting will broaden your palette.” She suggested.

They talked more about future activities and also their route from Paris to Brussels. Their mains were delicious, and inoffensive, and they both enjoyed apple tart to finish.

“I’ll pay.” Sylvie insisted, after the waiter brought the check over.

Matt eyed her for a minute before sitting back in his chair. “Okay, I mean you do owe me twenty euros.”

“I do?” She put the exact bills, plus tip, onto the tray and frowned. “Wait, no, we had fun at last night’s dinner!”

“I did not laugh once.”

“That was on purpose! I know you were laughing on the inside.”

“Nope.” He shook his head, eyes gleaming. “Plus it really messed up everyone’s night: Maddy had nightmares, started seeing things...”

“That doesn’t count, unless you also had nightmares. Did you?”

“No.” He admitted freely, though his cheeks pinked slightly. The waiter came over to take the tray away and they thanked him.

As they were gathering their things, Sylvie admitted, looking over Matt’s shoulder. “I slept well last night.”

“Good, me too.” He replied simply. After a beat he cleared his throat and waved her in front of him. Due to the late hour they called a taxi, even though it was only a few minutes’ drive back to the hotel.

Once back in front of their rooms, there was a long pause.

“Okay, I did have a good time last night.” Matt admitted finally, hands in his pockets.

Sylvie made a small ‘aha’ noise but her reaction was softened by the look on Matt’s face.

“In fact, I’ve had fun this whole trip.” He continued, expression earnest.

“Me too.” Sylvie replied, smiling softly.

“Last day in Loire Valley tomorrow.” Matt commented absently.

“Uhuh.” Sylvie nodded slowly, eyes focused on his face. His stubble was looking really good. She wondered what it would feel like against her skin. She blinked and took a step back, stammering. “So…guess we should say goodnight.”

He nodded reluctantly and they dragged themselves back into their individual rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French:  
> bâtard = bastard [this is Matt just using a word he'd read in the phrase book. French people would say something like: 'l'orgueil démesuré est très chiant' or something. Any real French people please confirm as you like!]  
> nouvelle = new  
> Poor Matt, I really like shoving him in the deep end, although in my defence, Sylvie is right there to save him.  
> Real restaurant: https://restaurant-les-platanes-nazelles-negron.eatbu.com/?lang=en
> 
> Votes for Chapter 6  
> 1\. At breakfast, Matt and Sylvie see…  
> a) Ellie and Ebba [the Swedish friends] being more than platonically intimate.  
> b) Maddy and Derek [the British couple] having a nasty argument.  
> c) Olivier being taken advantage of by a rude guest.
> 
> 2\. Sylvie accidentally sends the picture of Matt in his trunks to a group chat with…  
> a) Otis and Cruz  
> b) her Fowlerton friends [NOT including Hope]  
> c) the firehouse women/wives [Donna, Cindy, Trudy, Emily and Stella]
> 
> 3\. At the wine tasting, who accidentally gets drunk?  
> a) Sylvie  
> b) Matt  
> c) Both
> 
> I will count the votes on: Sunday 26th April at 9am CEST and try to update on Tuesday 28th.  
> EDIT: votes are in: 1a 2c 3c. So far we're on track for Tuesday.  
> Thanks for reading!  
> :D


	6. Day 5: Loire Valley, France

Sylvie slept better than she expected after that Pull Moment the night before. She couldn’t believe how close she’d been to kissing him. When they’d found out everyone else had cancelled, Sylvie had worried about how it would be spending time one on one. It had gone so much better than she’d expected: being around Matt was so easy. Too easy. She was forgetting herself.

Getting dressed for breakfast, she gave herself a stern look in the mirror. She was _not_ going to be the one to make things awkward on this amazing trip. She’d already injured him once. Nodding to herself, she vowed to get a hold of her emotions.

Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her phone and room keys. The phone made her pause though. Should she delete that photo she took? It was kind of inappropriate to take a stealth photo of your male friend in his trunks. Thinking about how he’d feel if he found out made her stomach gurgle with guilt.

After a moment she cleared her throat. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. It was just for her…temporarily. She’d delete it soon.

Breakfast was a continental buffet with the option to order eggs and cooked meats. Sylvie liked having yoghurt or cereal with fruit and if they were having a full day, some eggs or _croque-monsieur_. She was surprised to learn Matt had similar preferences; he usually opted for eggs or plain toast with muesli and dried fruit. He’d shrugged when she’d commented on it.

“Firehouse bacon and eggs are all well and good on shift days, but I can’t have that much salt every day. Family history of heart conditions.”

It was said casually, but the way he avoided looking directly at her forestalled any follow-up questions. Focusing on her coffee, Sylvie considered how much of Matt was still a mystery to her.

“Refill?” She asked once she’d drained her cup.

Both of them made use of the coffee pot a few times each morning and that morning was no exception. Matt gave her his cup gratefully and she walked up to the pot.

It was an hour into breakfast service so most people were up. There were more guests than had been at the special dinner so Sylvie didn’t know their names but she smiled at Ellie and Ebba on her way back to the table.

“So I checked and the aquarium is open now.” She mentioned as she sat down, placing the cups carefully on the full table.

“Huh.” Matt muttered. Sylvie frowned and looked up, freezing when she saw what he saw.

Ellie was feeding Ebba yoghurt from her spoon. Although they were sitting a little way apart, and thus had to lean across the table, it still looked quite intimate.

“Didn’t they say they had husbands?” Sylvie asked, sitting down and trying not to stare.

“Not our place.” Matt said neutrally before shrugging. “Also, aren’t they Swedish? Who knows what the customs are? Could be normal for friends to…feed each other.”

Sylvie just stared at him. He widened his eyes back at her. “What?”

Leaning back in her chair, Sylvie just judged him in silence, lips twitching ever so slightly.

“Europe is a different place and France is, from what I’ve seen, very...” He defended a little mulishly, waving a hand to indicate exactly what France was.

Knowing what he meant from his slight blush, she couldn’t help but tease him. “So you’re saying when in France...”

“Smoke a cigarette whilst riding a bike with a stupid hat on?” He deliberately veered away from sexual stereotypes. “No thanks.”

“Come on, who would…?” Sylvie began before remembering.

“The old man at the crossroads.” They said at the same time.

The day before they’d seen the most stereotypical French person yet: on their way to the restaurant, they’d come to a crossroads and seen an elderly man on a bike, stopped by the junction signs. He had a cigarette hanging limply from his mouth and had been wearing a beret. As Matt and Sylvie had approached, he’d waved, smiling a little randily at Sylvie. Matt had wrapped an arm around her shoulder and the old man had shrugged, got on his bike and cycled away, humming something.

“Looked like an oil painting.” Sylvie commented, “before he saw us.” Matt nodded sagely.

“Alright,” Sylvie conceded, “but the French do have a lot of delightful customs. Olivier practically exudes Frenchness and he is nothing but charm.”

Matt conceded her point.

Sylvie glanced back at the friends. They did look happy though and it made bubbles of joy rise up and pop inside her. 

Cheekily, she remarked. “Anyway, it’s not like they’re going to ask you to join them.”

She’d mistimed the comment because Matt managed to pull his coffee cup away from his mouth and shudder without spitting out anything.

“Don’t give them ideas.” He warned sternly.

Feeling bolder by his reaction and seeing him raise the cup to his lips again, she asked mock-innocently. “You wouldn’t be interested?”

Putting his cup down on the table without taking a sip, Matt raised an eyebrow. “Would you?”

Whilst the mental image of herself between the two naked middle-aged women didn’t do anything for her, the glint in Matt’s eye made her thighs press together. It felt like he was challenging her; like the boundaries of their relationship were being tested.

She swallowed. “Depends who was asking.”

His eyes widened a fraction before he leaned back in his chair and the tension broke.

“Huh.” He said neutrally before going back to his breakfast.

After a beat Sylvie realised that she was blushing a little. Trying to be subtle, she put her elbow on the table hid a cheek on her hand. She drank some more coffee as she looked around the room.

Derek and Mandy had come in since she’d sat down and she noticed they were having what looked like a stilted conversation.

“Sylvie?” Matt asked, following her gaze. She shook herself and waved off his concern.

A few minutes later she was savouring her coffee when Ebba wiped something from Ellie’s mouth. Ellie apparently took this as an invitation to suck Ebba’s finger into her mouth.

Barely holding back a choke, Sylvie nodded gratefully when Matt suggested they leave.

In the corridor outside, Sylvie recovered and asked. “Aquarium?”

Matt nodded. “Aquarium.”

…

One quick taxi drive later and they were at the Touraine aquarium. It was a huge building with lots of different tanks filled with fresh and saltwater animals. As it was close to the opening time, there weren’t too many people around. Having visited the Chicago aquarium, Sylvie found the layout different but the concept much the same.

“I wouldn’t know.” Matt replied when she said as much.

“You’ve never been?” She asked curiously.

“No. Oooh, look! Giant crabs! Come on, let’s get closer!” He exclaimed, mock-delighted.

Sylvie shuddered. “Let’s not.”

“But they’re so big and cute! Look at the antenna!”

“Nooo.” She fast-walked away and he jogged after her, still laughing. Together they walked through the exhibits which slowly filled up with cackling children and long-suffering parents.

“It’s a school day.” Matt commented with heavy judgement in his voice as another toddler waddled through their path.

“Maybe it’s a holiday?”

“This country.” Matt muttered, making Sylvie elbow him.

“Okay old man, say that a bit louder why don’t you?”

He grumbled a little, but didn’t reply. Matt’s level of interest stayed pretty low until the ocean tunnel.

It curved under a large tank with what looked like hundreds of fish and a few dozen sharks. It was mesmerizing. There were lights on the floor and near the handrails so the reflections of the water coated everyone in an almost ethereal glow.

Sylvie came to a stop about halfway in, gaze caught by something. Seeing her smile and remembering the day in Amboise, Matt took in a deep breath and stepped up beside her. Their fingers brushed. Sylvie glanced up at him but didn’t say anything.

Feeling his heart racing, he asked. “What were you looking at?”

She studied him for another beat for looking back at the tank and pointing. “There’s a shark, right there. Do you see it?”

He hummed to show that he did and then gently leaned his shoulder against hers. He saw her lips pull up at the corner and he swallowed, willing his heart to slow down.

They didn’t hold hands again, the walkways proved too narrow for that, but Matt still felt the same as when he’d had Sylvie’s hand in his own.

…

After the aquarium they walked to a little cluster of shops and cafés between the aquarium and Amboise. Matt had the map app on his phone but barely looked at it as he led them there with his usual confidence.

“How do you do that?” Sylvie asked curiously.

“What?” Matt dragged his gaze away from some birds nesting in the trees beside the road.

“Navigate so easily to a place we’ve never been.”

“Well we’ve been on a lot of taxi rides since we arrived, I looked at the map before we left; it doesn’t take that long for me to orientate myself.”

“Even in the countryside where everything looks the same? I mean, I never have trouble in Fowlerton because I’ve lived there all my life but, this is another country!” 

“This road runs mostly perpendicular to the main one we’ve used a few times to get to Amboise. See up ahead it veers to the left? Then we need to take the right turning to get to the café. I remember it from the map.”

Sylvie blinked before shrugging. She’d seen him do many incredible things over the years, this skill really shouldn’t be a surprise.

They made it to the café and had late morning coffee and pastries. Sylvie was extra happy because the waiter understood her order and replied in French.

“He called me _mademoiselle_!” She told Matt excitedly.

Matt chuckled. “I heard.” After a beat, he smiled genuinely. “You’re getting better.”

Sylvie ducked her head a little at the compliment, looking even cuter than normal. Matt fought to keep his hands to himself, cradling his coffee cup and listening to Sylvie’s sunny commentary about the hamlet they were in.

He wanted to stay in that café forever.

…

They ate a light lunch at the café and then returned to the hotel.

As they still had a few hours before the wine tasting, Matt suggested. “I was thinking we could take a walk around the grounds. Olivier told me that there are some hammocks set up in random places. We could try them all find the best one?”

Sylvie smiled. “Sounds fun.”

So they meandered through the lush grass and trees, testing the hammocks they found. They saw Axel, the retired travel writer, in the distance and waved, but otherwise they were alone in the grounds.

Relaxing on hammock number three, she watched Matt read the plaque in front of an old oak tree. His face was bathed in sunlight, making the beginnings of his beard look lighter. She itched to take another photo. _No! That’s creepy and weird_. Shaking herself, opened the firehouse women chat to distract herself.

Currently the group chat was buzzing with some gossip or other. She shot off a comment and with another quick check that Matt was distracted, pulled up The Photo again.

He really did look very good in it: mid-step, his arm muscles were well defined by the angle of his shoulders; the sun lit up his torso and the musculature there. His hair was darkened by the water and sticking up a little but in a sexy way and his stubble looked really good. That was not to mention his expression, which, well, the word _intense_ came to mind.

As much as she’d loved Kyle and he had been nice and attentive, he’d never looked at her quite like that. For a moment, she contemplated what it would be like to see that look in another, more comfortable context.

She just thanked the Heavens that his shorts hadn’t been any tighter or she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about-

“What’s the verdict?”

Sylvie half-jumped, fingers spasming on her phone.

“What? Oh, it’s good.” She pulled her phone down, trying to turn the screen off without looking. “Not as good as number one though.”

Matt just looked bemused and not at all like he’d realised what she’d been doing. “Ready to try the next?”

She nodded and scrambled up, trying to will her cheeks to stop flushing.

As they walked, Sylvie felt her phone buzzing. Not wanting to fall down the rabbit hole, she ignored it and concentrated on bantering with Matt.

It wasn’t until they made it back to their rooms to change for the wine tasting did she look at her phone and lose all feeling in her face. She’d accidentally sent the picture of Matt to the chat. The _firehouse women_ chat! With Stella and Emily, but also Cindy, Trudy and oh god, Donna…what if she showed the chief?

Oh God!

She read the comments, stomach plummeting but also twisting at the same time.

**Emily** : *flame, beard and heart-eyes emojis*

 **Stella** : you didn’t tell us about the beard!

 **Trudy** : atta girl!

 **Donna** : enjoy!

 **Emily** : tell us you have more!

 **Cindy** : good to see you kids having fun *smiley emoji*

Sylvie felt a little sick. _What if he found out? He’d be mortified and feel betrayed. Oh…stupid Sylvie!_

**Sylvie** : Total accident! Didn’t mean to send it. Deleting now…

 **Emily** : Don’t you dare!

 **Stella** : Too late. My background now, gonna make someone jealous *side eye emoji*

 **Donna** : keep us updated about the beard

 **Trudy** : keep us updated about everything

 **Cindy** : maybe get a photo of the two of you next time.

 **Trudy** : Cindy you minx! *tongue out emoji*

 **Cindy** : I didn’t mean like that!

 **Sylvie** : please don’t show anyone else!

 **Stella** : no one apart from Severide, got it

 **Sylvie** : Stella!

 **Emily:** So Sylvie, you jump him yet?

 **Sylvie** : There will be no jumping!

 **Donna** : Well I think you’ll make a cute couple.

 **Trudy** : *winky face emoji*

 **Cindy** : you two be safe

 **Sylvie** : seriously, PLEASE don’t show anyone.

 **Cindy** : we won’t

 **Donna** : don’t worry, Wallace won’t appreciate it as much as we do

 **Emily** : gotta go to class. Ladies, keep up the pressure, she’s ready to break.

Outraged, Sylvie gasped. Before she could respond though, loud knocking on her door made her jump.

“Just a second!” She called. Head down, she typed furiously to bat away all the lusty suggestions from those terrible women.

Needless to say they were late to the wine tasting.

The vineyard seemed vast, with rows upon rows of grapes stretching for miles. The building where the tasting was held was rustic with modern touches: old brick but big, glass windows and doors.

A receptionist greeted them at the main door and lead them to the tasting. The tasting room had stone walls and floors with a low ceiling; giving it a cave-like feel. The furniture was made up of small, metal tables seating two or three people and a long table loaded with bottles and empty glasses. The host was standing in front of the main table and a few servers were hovering in the background.

“Sorry!” Matt called as they came in. He had on his polite, public smile but Sylvie knew he wasn’t happy.

The drive over had been awkward as Sylvie hadn’t been able to look Matt in the eye. He’d been confused at first and hadn’t been appeased by her lame excuse about being tired. When she wouldn’t elaborate though, he’d completely backed off, in that way he did when he was hurt. It made Sylvie’s heart clench painfully.

The host waved a hand, unconcerned. “Not to worry, we are just beginning.” He indicated to the glass in his hand. “As I was saying, this is…”

Matt and Sylvie settled on the empty table and did their best to be model students. There were about ten other people there, most looked like they knew each other, exchanging glances and nods in appreciation.

The tasting was very interesting: going into the history of the vineyard and each type of wine they grew there. Different things influenced the aromas and bouquet of each wine: types of grape, soil, climate and the barrels it’s stored in.

Once explained, it was easier to differentiate the flavours. At least for Sylvie, Matt claimed they all tasted the same. He got a solidarity nod from another man but most of the others seemed into it.

The host also encouraged them to comment on the wines: what they liked and didn’t like, what flavours they could taste and so on.

The interactivity and wine were also great excuses to try to ignore Matt, or at least pay him less attention than usual. The teasing from the chat still rang in Sylvie’s head, as well as the fear that he’d find out about it. She knew she was being stiff and awkward around him, causing a pinch in his brow and tension in his shoulders. She just couldn’t stop. At least the wines were good.

After about forty minutes, however, Sylvie turned to Matt urgently.

“Wait…” She asked lowly. “Are we meant to spit it out?”

Matt put down his wine glass after taking another sip. “No, I think it’s optional.”

“Everyone else is doing it.” She whispered and he glanced around.

“Wine isn’t that strong.” He asserted, even as he eyed someone spitting into a small metal bucket. “I’ve definitely seen some people swallow.”

“It’s stronger than beer. That’s why wine-drunk is so much worse.”

“Huh?”

“Wine-drunk: it makes most of my friends crazier than just chugging beers.” Sylvie explained.

Matt looked down at the dregs of wine in his glass. Then he blinked a few times. He had been feeling looser and more light-headed during the last few glasses, but hadn’t thought anything of it. If anything he’d been glad for the distraction from his worry that he’d pissed Sylvie off without realising. Had he said something? Gone too far at the aquarium? He thought she’d been pleased with the contact, but maybe he’d been wrong.

“We’ve only had four glasses.” He enunciated very carefully.

“Eight.” Sylvie corrected him, biting her lip.

“But they were half-filled so…” He trailed off, calculating, before announcing confidently. “Four.”

“No, they were at normal pouring level.” Sylvie’s face paled. “Oh no Matt, are we drunk?”

He lifted his head, vision swimming a little, and nodded very slowly.

Sylvie downed her last glass. “What do we do?”

“Now the session is over but you are free to keep tasting and purchase any vintages that you’ve enjoyed.” The host chose that moment to announce.

Everyone clapped politely and then began to mingle, chatting to the host and to each other.

“We just drank a bottle and a half.” Sylvie commented, swaying in her seat.

“We’ll be fine just, stop moving.” Matt ordered. Sylvie froze like a statue and Matt gave her a very serious thumbs up. He looked around. “Okay. There’s water somewhere.”

The many empty and half-empty glasses on their table were confusing to look at and the other tables were too far away. Matt frowned, trying to figure out how to make it to the main table where the water bottles were.

Lips quirking up even as she kept still, Sylvie commented. “I’ve never seen you drunk before.”

He gave up planning a route to the water and grinned down at her, so happy she was talking to him again. “Really?”

“Never. Which is weird, right?”

“Is it? Maybe I just know better than to try to keep up with Foster.”

“Shuddup!” Sylvie swatted at him.

“Hello, did you enjoy the session?” The host was suddenly at their table.

Sylvie smiled too widely. “Yesssss.”

Matt cleared his throat. “It was very educational and educated us…”

“Greatly.” Sylvie added before snapping her head towards Matt, impressed. “That was really good. I think we did good.”

“Team effort.” Matt agreed, grinning.

The host eyed their empty spit bucket. “I see.”

“Hey, I’m so sorry,” Matt addressed him, earnestness dripping onto every word, “could you help us find a taxi? We’re not from here.”

Sylvie snorted.

“Of course,” the host smiled stiffly, “why don’t you just stay right here? Someone will come and get you.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“Bon. Merci.” Sylvie added in a deep voice after the host left.

“What was that?” Matt asked through chortles.

“French-You!” Sylvie declared. “It’s what’s you’d sound like in the French tongue.”

Matt rested his chin on his palm. “Oh yeah? Wassfrenchmelike?”

Sylvie laughed. “What?”

“What’s he like?” Matt repeated, poking her arm like a kid.

“Oh, he’s cooooool.” Sylvie nodded, lips pushed out in a pout with attitude. “Chill. Doesn’t get mad about anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” Sylvie confirmed, then frowned. “Or is it ‘nothing’?”

Matt ignored her question. “So French-Me has no worries?”

“Nononono, it’s like this.” Sylvie leaned forward, and placed her palms on the table, gripped by a fantastic idea. “Someone, let’s say Severide, took a video of you while you were…climbing a mountain. With no shirt on.”

Matt nodded deeply to show he was following the hypothetical.

“Okay, so he sends this video – by accident! – to…Otis and Cruz.”

“Otis and Cruz.” Matt repeated, concentrating. 

“American-Matt is creeped out by this, right?” Sylvie waved her hands. He raised his palms and gave a big shrug. Sylvie shook her head, miming smoking and gesticulating frenetically. “But French-Matt is all like: heyyy, _c’est bon, c’est tous bon, de rien! C’est cool!_ ”

Matt burst into laughter. Sylvie joined him and for a while they were stuck in a loop of laughing, then trying to compose themselves until one of them repeated the gestures and sent them back into fits.

Suddenly, Olivier appeared, clapping Matt on the shoulder. “I see your day is going well, my friends.”

“Olivier!” Matt exclaimed, arms outstretching in excitement. “What are you doing here?”

“My friend told me I might need to pick up two guests.”

“That’s us!” Matt exclaimed and Sylvie beamed. They stood and Sylvie wobbled a little, clutching onto Matt’s arm for balance.

“Come on!” Olivier waved to the host genially before leading them outside.

They climbed into his car mostly unaided, buckled in and Olivier began the engine.

“Bye winery!” Sylvie waved at the building happily.

“Bye grapes!” Matt did the same, waving at the vines.

“No, silly!” Sylvie admonished him. “They don’t speak English.”

“Oh sorry,” Matt cleared his throat. “Au revoir, grapes!”

Olivier called over his shoulder. “So you enjoyed the tasting?”

Sylvie sighed. “Yes. It was loads of fun.”

“Loads.” Matt confirmed.

“Hard to walk now though.” Sylvie related sincerely. “So thanks for getting us Olivier, you’re _le meilleur_!”

Matt gasped and asked Olivier in wonder. “You’re the mayor?”

“No!” Sylvie almost shrieked with laughter. “ _Le meilleur_! It means ‘the best’!”

“I agree.” Matt nodded solemnly. To Olivier he said: “You are the best mayor ever!” 

Sylvie almost collapsed from laughing, head lolling onto Matt’s shoulder. He leant his head on hers, grinning happily.

Olivier just smiled. “ _Il n’y a qu’un bonheur dans la vie, c’est d’aimer et d’être aimé_.*”

“That’s so true.” Matt responded innocently. He looked down at Sylvie. “Isn’t whatever he said right?”

Sylvie just hummed, nestling her face into his shoulder.

Back at the hotel, Olivier gave them a basket of bread and two big bottles of water. “Will you need help up the stairs?”

“I’ll have you know that I am an expert at the dummy drag!” Sylvie claimed, only slurring slightly.

Matt gave Olivier a winning smile. “We’ll be fine.”

They did make it up the stairs with minimal swaying and sat on the loveseat in Sylvie’s room.

“Bread or water first?” Matt asked, eyeing up both.

“Bread to soak up the naughty juice and then water to flush it out.” Sylvie replied confidently, passing Matt a bread roll.

“Ew.” Matt grimaced as he took it. “Don’t talk to me about flushing anything.”

Sylvie picked up a bread stick. “I am a paramedic. I know what I’m meaning.”

“Uhuh. Right.” Matt answered sceptically.

They ate. Both of them were a little tired from the trek up the stairs, so they didn’t say much.

Relaxed, Matt lay back, crossing his legs in front of him. “I’ve changed my mind about wine. It’s good.”

“Which was your favourite?” Sylvie asked, nibbling on a slice of baguette.

“The red one.” He declared, waving a lazy hand.

“There were three red ones.” Sylvie pointed out, eyes glazing over a little as she stared at the wardrobe in the corner. It was a really nice wardrobe. What kind of wood was that? She should get something similar for her room at home. A shopping trip when they got back was a great idea. Maybe she should write that down?

She finished her piece of bread and then looked down at Matt. He’d closed his eyes.

 _God, he really is handsome_ , she thought as she stared at him, _and good and kind and almost unreal by how amazing he is_.

Was he asleep? That wouldn’t do, she had something she needed to say.

“Matt.” She poked him in the side. “Matt.”

“Huh?” He stirred, opening his eyes and blinking a few times.

Sylvie took in a deep breath before announcing. “You’re one of the best people in the world.”

He looked at her searchingly for a minute before smirking. “Well I think you’re ‘the mayor’ too.”

“I’ve changed my mind, you’re terrible.” She re-joined before huffing in frustration. “Seriously, take a compliment for once, pleeeeease. For me.”

Instead of cracking a joke, he just looked down at the coffee table. “You really think so?”

“I know so.” She confirmed, dead serious even as she poked his chest again.

He trapped her hand in a gentle grip, eyes finding hers. Her breath caught. There it was: that pull again. This time it felt stronger though, like a magnet was…huh, was it just her or were they suddenly a lot close-

Lips were on hers. Her heart stopped. All she knew was sensation: their knees bumping slightly, his hand still holding hers against his chest, and his lips…They were softer than she’d imagined; the pressure was light and undemanding. Warmth spread through her, limbs tingling.

She remembered to breathe through her nose and pressed in closer, hand coming up to cradle his cheek. His stubble was a little prickly but-

Her phone chirped with a notification and snapped them out of it. Matt pulled back and let go of her hand. They stared at each other.

Sylvie’s head filled with the voices of her friends; imagining what they’d say if they knew, what they’d think. She saw his face as he was shown a photo of himself and realised she’d taken it. How his expression would harden and he’d _hate_ her…

“Wine!” Sylvie blurted. At Matt’s slight frown, she found more words. “We’re drunk. That’s all.”

Brow clearing, Matt nodded and rasped. “Wine-drunk.”

“Yes.” Sylvie agreed, before snatching up her phone and looking at the message. She didn’t even register who it was from before signalling vaguely: “I need-”

“Yeah.” Matt stood, a little wobbly on his feet. He stepped away but then stopped. “Sylvie-”

“Take some water.” Sylvie suggested in a small voice, not wanting to hear whatever he had to say.

Clearing his throat, Matt stooped to pick up a bottle. He looked more clear-eyed as he bid her goodnight and left.

Feeling a little numb, Sylvie stumbled up and collapsed onto the bed, phone forgotten. The room swam a little and she closed her eyes.

Oh God.

Then she jumped up and dashed for the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French: Il n’y a qu’un bonheur dans la vie, c’est d’aimer et d’être aimé. = ‘There is only one happiness in life: to love and be loved in return.’ George Sand [Amantine Lucile Dupin]  
> « c’est bon, c’est tous bon, de rien! C’est cool.” = It’s good, it’s all good, you’re welcome! It’s cool.  
> Not perfect grammar/vocab here but she’s trying.  
> Guess which part I had most fun writing?  
> The anecdote about beret-wearing old man cycling is based on a real person I saw in the French countryside, he wasn’t smoking that I remember but, eh, poetic license.  
> Fun fact: since 2017, French primary schools have the option to close on Wednesdays and open Saturday mornings.  
> Also this photo thing really kind of got out of control, it was meant to be fun but Sylvie got all guilty so we’re going to have to deal with it.
> 
> Votes for Chapter 7  
> 1\. When Matt and Sylvie first see each other the next morning they…  
> a) joke awkwardly  
> b) reiterate how drunk they both were  
> c) promise to talk about it later when they’re feeling less like death
> 
> 2\. On the train to Paris, Matt and Sylvie talk about…  
> a) worst hangovers/drunken incidents  
> b) favourite people in the firehouse/CFD  
> c) celebrity crushes 
> 
> 3\. Matt hears about the photo from…  
> a) Otis and Cruz  
> b) Severide  
> c) Sylvie
> 
> I will count the votes on: Thursday 30th April at 10pm CEST and I hope to update on Sunday 3rd May.  
> Head’s up: the next chapter will have a very important decision which will influence the rest of the fic so make sure you tune in for that one.
> 
> EDIT: Votes are in: 1c 2a 3c. Hoping to update on Sunday and I cannot wait for you guys to read and vote on it. :D


	7. Day 6: Paris, France

It took close to an hour for Matt to move from the bed once he’d woken up. And he only managed the feat in that short amount of time because he really needed to use the bathroom.

As he staggered over to it, he cursed his petty – and stupid – decision not to drink any of the water the previous night. Like Sylvie would care that he hadn’t drunk the water just because she’d suggested it. His stomach was a queasy, head spinning slightly, but he managed to do his business without throwing up.

Washing his hands, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Ugh, he looked as bad as he felt: bags under his eyes, hair damp with sweat and lines on his face from the pounding in his skull. Groaning, he sat on the edge of the bath and leaned his face against the cool tile.

The previous night had been a whirlwind of conflicting emotions: fear, guilt, love.

It had been amazing whilst it had lasted though. His cheek pressed more against the tile as he smiled a little. 

When they’d been on that couch, when she’d given him the highest praise he could think of, he’d felt lighter and happier than he’d been in a long time.

She’d looked so beautiful: eyes sparkling and so blue, mouth parted slightly. To think that this strong, compassionate, stunning woman thought that much of him? He hadn’t been able to resist leaning in and claiming her lips.

He’d been a massive idiot.

He wished he hadn’t drunk so much but at the same time, wish he’d drunken more so as to have forgotten the whole thing.

In order to start to make it up to her, and because he was a coward who wasn’t ready for an awkward conversation, he took a quick shower and then slipped downstairs to save her something from breakfast. The stairs were not so easy to navigate in his tired state, but he soldiered on. His plans were ruined, however, by Sylvie herself, who he found trying to apologise to Olivier in the main foyer.

Trying, because the amiable and annoyingly chipper Frenchman was deflecting all of Sylvie’s tired and embarrassed apologies with his usual effervescence.

“ _S’il vous plait, mademoiselle_ Sylvie, it was no trouble!” He spotted Matt and his eyes twinkled as he went on. “You and your friend are most delightful _clients pompettes*_ I have ever met, and trust me, I have seen it all over the years.”

“Morning Olivier.” Matt greeted sheepishly. He noticed that Sylvie barely looked at him, thin lipped, before turning back to Olivier and the desk. His stomach twisted again.

“Bonjour _monsieur_ , how are you feeling?” Olivier asked, either not seeing the awkwardness or deliberately ignoring it.

“Er, not so bad, thanks to you.” Matt managed to answer, still hyper-aware of the physical and metaphorical space between him and Sylvie.

“Yes, Olivier. Thank you for everything.” Sylvie added earnestly.

Olivier waved a hand, but bowed his head. “Oh my dear, it was my pleasure. Is there anything else I can do for you before you check-out?”

Sylvie glanced up at Matt and he got a proper look at her face. She didn’t look as bad as him, only with slight bags under her eyes and brows furrowed – indicating a headache. Matt shook his head and Sylvie thanked Olivier again.

The host beamed before gliding away, leaving an uncomfortable tension behind him.

Taking in a deep breath, Matt ventured.

“So, I’m guessing you feel as bad as I do.”

“Probably worse.” Sylvie muttered, though she turned more of her body to face him, which Matt took as a good sign.

Matt smiled a bit, before shuffling nervously. “I think we need to talk about last night but maybe when…” He huffed and rubbed his forehead, unable to think of the right way to phrase it.

“We both feel less like Death?” Sylvie suggested, relief showing through her fatigue.

“Yes.” Matt’s hand dropped away from his head and fell limply to his side.

“Uh, maybe we can get breakfast at the station?” Sylvie fought a yawn. “I don’t think I could handle solids right now.”

Matt nodded in answer and they both wordlessly turned to go back up the stairs. Matt had never fully unpacked, instead extracting what he’d needed from his suitcase on a daily basis and replacing things as he’d gone along. Therefore, he was done ‘packing’ only ten into the agreed forty minutes. He spent the rest of the time debating whether to message Severide for advice and waiting for his painkillers to kick in. Trying to soothe his anxiety, he reminded himself that Sylvie was a sensible and compassionate person. Even if he had offended or hurt her, she’d give him the chance to explain himself before shutting him out completely. Plus, she had seemed mostly awkward earlier, not frosty or afraid.

They checked out and said a heartfelt goodbye to Olivier, promising to leave a stellar review on the travel websites and visit if they were ever in France again. He thanked them for staying and wished them well on the rest of their trip.

Then they left the hotel and set off to the train station.

…

On the train back to Paris, Sylvie yawned and pressed her head back into the headrest, murmuring.

“How did I sleep for twelve hours but still feel this tired?”

Matt glanced down at her, looking more alert than before as he quipped. “I don’t know about you but I have the age excuse.”

“Oh please,” she scoffed, rolling her head to the side to look him in the eye, “you’re still young.”

“Not as young as I used to be.” He chuckled, settling back in his seat. She sighed as she closed her eyes; her head did feel really heavy in addition to the dull pain at the front of her skull.

Almost to himself, Matt continued. “Drinking with Severide when we were fresh out of the Academy always ended in trouble: I could tell you some stories.”

Opening one eye, Sylvie’s mouth tilted up slyly. “Please do.”

Seeming pleased with her interest, Matt’s expression turned thoughtful before beginning. “There was the time that Severide spent half the night looking for his front teeth.”

Sylvie barked a laugh out of surprise. “What?”

“Yeah, we were at a house party, uh, I think it was at Johnson’s place. Sev had done a lot of shots and he was so hammered that he couldn’t feel his teeth in his mouth. He thought he’d lost them!” Matt explained, face brightening as he recalled the tale.

“Awww,” Sylvie cooed, half-amused, half-charmed. “Why didn’t anyone tell him?”

“We tried!” Matt insisted, before immediately relenting. “Well, once or twice, but me and Andy were also more than a little tipsy and it was pretty funny watching him rooting around under the couch, looking in the kitchen cabinets,” he chortled, “we followed him around practically the whole house, even in rooms he hadn’t been in before!”

Sylvie hummed in amusement. “What happened in the end?”

“Oh well he actually got upset when he couldn’t find them, so I told him to go to sleep and they’d grow back overnight.”

“And that worked?”

“Like a charm! He passed out on the couch and pretended not to remember it the next day.” Matt tapped him nose. “But I _know_ that he was just trying to save face.” 

“That’s hilarious!” Sylvie exclaimed.

“The best drunk stories belong to Andy though.” He commented thoughtfully.

Sylvie twisted a little in her seat, resting her elbow on the armrest and chin on her palm, prompting Matt’s eyes to light up and continue.

“Okay, well the classic drunk Andy story was the time he went into the bathroom of a club and was in there for ages.” He chuckled. “So I went to find him, and he was talking to himself in the mirror,” Matt broke off from laughter and struggled to get through the ending, “he thought he’d bumped into someone so was apologising to himself!”

Sylvie joined in, giggling behind her hand.

“We used to say that it would have been just as likely without all the booze!” On a roll, Matt continued. “He was always doing goofy stuff: cracking jokes, doing voices, he once spent a whole shift composing a sonnet about the Truck and how it was in love with the Squad rig.”

“Really? Oh wow.”

“Yeah, it rhymed and everything.”

His smile turned nostalgic. “Sometimes I think it was for his own amusement but other times he was just doing it to make us laugh.” His gaze began to go a little distant. “The poem thing, that was when I was going through a rough patch.”

Matt opened his mouth to say something else but then closed it again.

“He sounds like a great guy.” Sylvie said softly.

“He was.” Matt’s gaze wandered over to the window for a moment and Sylvie’s heart clenched as she thought she saw a shine of moisture in his eyes. It reminded her that there was a lot of 51’s history that she didn’t know; there were a lot of blanks in Matt’s history as well. She made a mental note to ask more about Andy at a later date.

Coughing, she ventured. “These are great, don’t get me wrong, but don’t you have any ‘drunk Matt’ stories?”

He turned back to face her, eyes clear. “Ah, not really.” He scratched his chin. “I was designated driver most nights and I stick to beer for a reason.”

“No fair.”

Matt eyed her up for a moment before sighing. “Promise you won’t tell?”

“Well as I remember talking to some grapes last night, I’d say we have enough dirt to keep it all to ourselves.” She joked back. “What happens or what stories are told on vacation, stay on vacation.”

“Exactly.” Matt nodded, smile playing on his lips. “Okay so after Severide made it into Squad we decided to celebrate in a big way as it was a massive achievement and we were really proud of him.”

“We did a little pre-drinking at our place with some other friends. Sev’s favourite club at the time was Lights Show but I hated it.”

“Lights Show?” Sylvie repeated incredulously.

“Yeah, bad as it sounds. I mean, I don’t like clubs in general because they’re too loud and there are too many people but that one was the worst of them.”

Sylvie bit her lip from laughing at Matt’s dad rant. Thankfully he didn’t notice her struggle.

“It’s not even around anymore, closed down like ten years ago.” He finished his complaints with a pitying shake of his head. “Anyway, I uh,” he huffed sheepishly, “tried to hide in the apartment so I wouldn’t have to go, like a literal child.” 

Grinning at the mental imagery, Sylvie tilted her head and fought the urge to coo or pinch his cheek.

“But trouble was, my hiding places were not very effective at all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, my first choice was the shower.”

Sylvie spluttered. “Oh Matt!”

“Yep.” He confirmed through a chuckle. “They found me immediately.”

“Second time I hid under, well, I tried hiding under Andy’s desk in his room but,” he almost choked on another laugh, “it was this tiny, shallow thing I could barely fit under.”

Sylvie burst into loud laughter and Matt joined her, explaining through gulping breaths. “I think I must have knocked almost everything off it as I was climbing underneath and again, spotted almost instantly.”

By this time Sylvie was a little breathless. She waved a hand. “No more or you’ll make me puke!”

He waited until she’d calmed her breathing before saying. “Okay, I know we decided to talk about it later but I have an urgent question about last night.” Sylvie’s stomach rolled and she swallowed, hard. But Matt was just teasing her. “Did you call alcohol: ‘naughty juice’?”

“Oh!” Sylvie laughed. “My little brother used to call it that.” She explained nostalgically. “My parents have a liquor cabinet in the dining room and when they had guests round, they’d break out something strong for after dinner. Whilst they’d never do anything too bad, they were noticeably ‘merry’, shall we say? Once when we were eating I asked to try some but my brother, I think he was seven or something, said: ‘no Sylvie, that’s the juice that makes mom and dad do naughty things.”

Matt laughed.

“Yep. From then on booze was known as the ‘naughty juice’ in our house.”

“That’s really cute.” He commented, before nudging her shoulder with his. “By the way, my question was a subtle hint that it’s your turn.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, pay up.”

She tried to deflect. “You’ve already seen me after Foster’s done with me.”

“Nahuh, that wasn’t embarrassing.”

She sent him a disbelieving look but conceded. “Okay, I’ll tell you one – the only – drunk story about me! So one of my childhood friends married her high school sweetheart like, three years after graduation, so everyone went to the wedding and we were all legal. Her family is really big so it was this huge reception and the sparkling wine was _flowing_. One of the guys I knew, David, had smuggled in some vodka and so after the toasts, when the dancing started, most of us were pretty drunk.”

“Of course.” Matt interjected dryly, leaning in a little as he listened.

“So the groom’s father was quite a high-class business man and there was a rumor that he had some cigars at the Reception. Now I’ve never smoked and neither had most of my friends but for some reason we really wanted to smoke cigars that night. I was tasked with finding them because I was the most resourceful.”

Matt indicated with his hand in an ‘obviously’ motion and Sylvie grinned before continuing.

“I did find a couple on the tables so I brought them back to the group but a really good song was on so they were all dancing. I didn’t have any pockets or a bag so I,” she felt her face heat a little as she admitted, “stuffed them in my bra for safe keeping.” 

Matt’s eyebrows rose a little at that information.

“You’d be surprised how much you can fit-” she cut herself off as his eyebrows climbed even higher, “anyway, so after a couple of songs we finally make it outside. David takes out his lighter and I hand him a cigar but it’s a little softer than before and as he unwraps it,” she giggled, “it started crumbling into pieces.”

“At first we just stared at it but then, he realised what it was! I’ll never forget when he looked at me and said,” she deepened her voice, “‘Sylvie, this is a candy bar’.”

Matt guffawed before commenting warmly. “That’s actually really sweet.”

“I’m glad you think so; my friends still tease me about it now.”

“Well, I don’t think I can ever tease you again, not now I’ve told you my hide and seek story.” He mock-lamented.

Snorting, she hit back. “Oh please, like a little embarrassment ever stopped a firefighter from razzing on their friends.”

He huffed a laugh

Sylvie yawned again and closed her eyes, muttering. “Wake me up when we get there?”

“Course.” Matt murmured back, tearing his eyes away from her to study the landscape as the train sped on.

…

They were staying in a hotel recommended by Olivier. The Hôtel de France Gare de Lyon Bastille was in the twelfth district, close to the Bastille. The outside was painted bright red and looked a little like a modern art painting.

“Oh dear.” Sylvie had muttered and Matt was inclined to agree with her reaction.

For its location it was reasonably priced though they had to share a room.

Unsurprisingly, the décor was disappointingly conventional and ‘hotel-esque’ according to Sylvie, but after staying in a castle, Matt didn’t feel like anything would live up to that. He also wasn’t a massive fan of it but at the same time seemed to care a lot less about aesthetics than his travel partner.

The room was clean and equipped with sturdy and functional furniture. The view was also quite good: it looked out onto the street of old-fashioned houses and tree-lined sidewalks. They were high up enough to avoid hearing the traffic and other noises from the street, but could still see what was going on.

They had twin beds and an en suite so it wasn’t too bad in terms of sharing. Even so Matt had to force himself to not fixate on the thought of being with Sylvie pretty much all the time. Even when they were resting they’d be together more. And that would be fine and normal and why was he nervous about it? It wasn’t like they were going to drink copious amount of evil, evil wine again. Matt shook himself and took another painkiller.

After dumping their bags, they embarked on a leisurely walk towards the most famous landmarks. It was a lovely day: blue skies with a hot sun warming the air around them. Used to hot Chicago summers, neither were too bothered about the lack of a breeze though Sylvie insisted they both wore sun cream. Their hangovers were still lingering, but they both had shades to combat the brightness of the sun. Matt had on his cap with just a T-shirt and knee-length shorts and Sylvie wore her sunhat which went perfectly with the summer dress she had on.

They looked the part of enthusiastic tourists even if they didn’t feel 100%.

They walked along the river to Notre Dame, contending with large crowds of tourists and heavy traffic along the main roads.

“These are nicer roads than in Chicago.” Sylvie commented, smiling at the elegant, iron street lights. She pointed to an advertising stand on the corner of the adjacent street from them: a thick, green column with a dome on top, it showed two adverts and appeared newly painted.

Matt shrugged, feeling too run down to be very impressed. “I mean it looks nice.”

“But there’s more to them than that.” Sylvie insisted, reading from the guidebook.

“First built in Berlin, in French they were named _colonnes Morris_ after Gabriel Morris, the printer who brought them over to the city in 1868. Many of the columns are multipurpose, containing water fountains, public toilets and some have even been fitted with carbon dioxide filters to try to combat city pollution.”

“Okay, that’s cool.” Matt conceded, head tilting down as if he was looking at her – though Sylvie couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses – before he raising his chin to continue walking. Sylvie swallowed and they reached the cathedral.

Notre Dame was a beautiful building: large and pale among the cityscape. There were intricate carvings all over the front façade – including a panel depicting an astronaut, according to the guidebook. Weaving through the crowds, they found it on the left-most side, only a few feet above them. Apparently one of the panels had been damaged so the city had commissioned another one made and they’d settled on a more modern image.

It was a little odd but then the cathedral had a long history of ruin and renovation, so it was fitting.

As they went in, Matt took off his sunglasses and cap, the latter seemingly as a form of respect, so Sylvie followed suit, folding her sunhat in her day hand bag.

They wandered around the inside, soaking in the hushed atmosphere and huge vaulted ceiling. The pale brick arches all along the sides made it feel like a palace to Sylvie, especially with the chandeliers and mahogany pews in neat rows all the way down to the other end.

Coloured light streamed down from the stained glass windows and Sylvie almost gasped at the large round window over another entrance, with seemingly every colour represented in the wheel. It was beautiful and lent an ethereal glow that wasn’t completely dissipated by the chattering of tourists.

“It’s like chess!”

Sylvie heard a little voice cry and turned to watch a young boy skipping across the black and white tiles. Matt stepped up next to her and smiled indulgently at the delighted laughter. Sylvie’s heart fluttered a little at the sight of Matt’s tufted hair and she resisted the urge to reach up and pat it down.

The boy’s mother marched up to her son, however, and dragged him back to the rest of the family, hissing in a low voice.

Disappointed the nice moment had been ruined, Sylvie made to continue walking but noticed Matt was still watching the family. His expression was mostly neutral yet his gaze was still intense.

Before Sylvie could react though, he turned away and she filed her questions away for another time.

From Notre Dame they crossed back over the river to the Louvre museum where the Mona Lisa was housed. The unusual triangular glass dome in the square was a popular sight to photograph, meaning a lot of people were posing at various points near the entrance to the museum.

The sun was beating down, it was close to lunchtime and both Matt and Sylvie had recovered their appetites. In the face of all of that plus hours’ long queues, they decided against going into the museum.

Sylvie pursed her lips though. “Are we doing this right?”

“What do you mean?” Matt asked distractedly, eyeing up the first café they’d found.

“I mean being tourists. The Mona Lisa is one of the most famous paintings in the world and we’re not going to see it?”

Matt frowned, voice a little sharp as he said. “I thought you didn’t care about seeing it.”

Pulling back a little, Sylvie countered. “I don’t! But maybe we should?”

Matt took off his cap and swiped a hand through his slightly damp hair. “According to who?”

Sylvie twisted her lip, taking his point.

Releasing some of his frustration from his frame, Matt added more softly. “It’s just you and me here. We can do what we want.” He indicated to the café. “Now do you want to buy ridiculously overpriced sandwiches and tiny coffees in this place?”

Squaring her shoulders, Sylvie forced a smile. “Well when you put it like that, how could I resist?” 

After eating some food in the air conditioned café, Sylvie had recovered enough verve to research a tour the following day.

“As we’re doing the main stuff today and aren’t too interested in historical places, why don’t we go for something a little different?”

Putting down his orange juice and feeling more alive himself, Matt nodded. “Sure.”

Looking on her phone at a list of the best tours, Sylvie bounced a little in her chair. “Chocolate and pastry tour?” She queried, looking up at him excitedly.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Could be a contender.”

She read the summary out loud, practically salivating at the descriptions of the cakes, chocolates and freshly-baked bread.

“Hold on. Did you say it was _three_ hours long?” He asked warily.

“If we’re going to do anything for three hours, why not taste ‘delectable bites’ and ‘heavenly samples’?” She tried to reason.

“What else is there?” He hedged.

Pouting a little, she scrolled down the list.

“Oh, interesting, how about this?” She sat up before reading in a commercial voice: “Why wait in a long line to see less of the Catacombs? Your guide will lead your group straight past the lines and down into the 200-mile labyrinth of bone-lined galleries and former quarry tunnels…”

“What was that about bones?” Matt asked, lips pursed.

Remembering his dislike of the supernatural, Sylvie moved on. “Okay, skip! Ooo, what about this one?”

“Montmartre walking tour. From the original Moulin Rouge cabaret to bustling cafés and Paris' last vineyard, few districts are more distinctly Parisian than Montmartre. Take your time exploring this scenic neighborhood on this walking tour, yada, yada, yada…”

“Sounds good.” He admitted, smiling.

“Right? Apparently they talk about famous people who used to live there, where they used to go…sounds informative but not too bogged down in facts and figures.”

“Perfect.” Matt agreed and as Sylvie set about booking it, he went on. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Oh I love this stuff.” She replied breezily, head still bent over her phone.

He was about to correct her assumption and inform her of how much this trip, and her presence, meant to him, but watching her mini happy dance as she worked, closed his mouth again. He’d already stuck his foot in it once already. Instead he turned his head slightly to look out over the square.

Remembering their conversation on the plane, he admitted to himself that although he had moved past his hurt over his divorce, happiness had been eluding him. Work was the same and his friends and co-workers as fun and supportive as ever. Yet sitting there on a sunny day, no responsibilities except for making sure they were both enjoying themselves, he felt content, _whole_ in a way he hadn’t felt for many, many years.

When she finished, Sylvie put down her phone and he focused his gaze back to her; they both smiled. Sylvie sighed happily. She was so glad that they seemed to have recovered their usual rapport. The thought lingered that they’d need to talk about the previous night, but not just yet.

…

After lunch they decided to do continue on to the Arc de Triumph and Eiffel Tower as well.

The Arc was very impressive from a distance. They were approaching it from Champs-Elysée Avenue so could see it from a long way away: it towered over the rows of trees lining the street and stood alone in the skyline. It was easy to imagine how the Arc could inspire people who saw it.

As they got closer, however, they realised that the Arc was actually a relatively small structure. The design was simple but the carvings impressively intricate, even the large murals depicting gods and historical scenes.

Matt obliged Sylvie and took a picture of her in front of it, laughing at her cheesy thumbs up pose. He declined her offer to take a photo of him in front of it, replying casually. “If anyone wants to see my holidays snaps, they can just look at yours.”

Sylvie ducked her head and cleared her throat, glad for her large aviation shades covering a lot of her face.

Lead by Matt, they continued on through the city, walking past the Trocadero gardens and up to the riverbank. They got their first glimpse of the tower through the trees, the base stark against the blue sky.

Finally, they reached the entrance and saw the Eiffel Tower in all its glory.

“Huh.” Matt exclaimed, as he looked at it. “I really thought this one would be bigger too.”

Sylvie rolled her eyes and elbowed him.

He laughed. “I’m only joking! It looks great.”

She huffed mock-haughtily and took a picture. They walked across the bridge and suddenly, they were there.

Once underneath the structure, Sylvie stopped to look up at the steelwork on the legs.

“What?” Matt asked curiously, once she’d been quiet for a while.

“It’s kind of incredible that we’re here.” She explained absently, eyes still scanning the crisscrossing beams. 

Matt looked up too. He supposed that it was true: neither of them had left the States before and here they were in across the ocean in another country. Plus, the Tower was such an iconic structure that it was almost unbelievable they were really there.

“Do you want to go up?” Matt asked as he looked at the ridiculously long queue, tone conveying exactly how he felt about it.

Suppressing a smile by how transparent, but also gentlemanly, he was, Sylvie put him out of his misery. “Well I was thinking we could go to the viewing scopes at Montmartre tomorrow, if it’s not part of the tour, it’s got a great view of the city including the Eiffel tower and you don’t need to queue.” 

“Plus,” she added after he agreed, “if we get up early enough tomorrow, we could get tickets to walk up to the second floor.” She pointed to the much shorter queue in front of the Tower’s south leg. “It’s a lot of steps but it’ll be like….”

“Like a morning workout-” he interjected smilingly.

“-that ends in a view!” She finished, the light in her eyes dancing.

They took a bus back from the Eiffel Tower to their hotel, soaking up both the city and their fellow passengers. There were some other tourists, but also local people as well and Sylvie amused herself by trying to understand overheard conversations.

About ten minutes into the ride, after giving up on eavesdropping, Sylvie caught the scent of… was that sandalwood? It was something woody. She was about to mention it to Matt but when she leaned in a little to be heard over the droning of the bus engine, she realised the smell grew stronger.

He noticed her looking. “What?”

“I just, are you wearing cologne?”

“Oh, no it’s the beard oil.” He explained, bringing a hand up to touch his jaw.

She noticed that the stubble now covered his entire jaw and lower face. Over his upper lip the hairs were as light as the ones on his head, but going down there was some variation on shade. Around his jaw were darker, almost brown, hairs further emphasizing his already strong jaw line. It wasn’t at all what she’d pictured when she’d suggested he forgo buying a razor; but she liked it.

“I remember: Cedarwood, Sandalwood and Eucalyptus, right?” She asked, looking down, belatedly realizing she’d been staring at his jaw. 

“Uh, I think so.” He answered in his typical casual approach to what he considered luxury products, thankfully unaware of Sylvie’s inappropriate staring.

She opened her mouth to say it suited him but then sat back in silence. She’d already narrowly avoided embarrassment within the last five seconds, probably best to stop talking while the going was good. 

…

Back in the room, they took turns in the bathroom to get ready for dinner.

Sylvie sat on the bed in her straight navy skirt and a fancy top underneath her light summer jacket. They’d reserved a table at a nice restaurant so she wanted to make more of an effort. She suspected that at dinner they would talk about what happened the night before. She couldn’t have that discussion without coming clean about the photo. All day she’d pushed it from her mind when it had popped up, but she couldn’t be a coward any longer.

Matt came out of the bathroom, looking sharp in dark jeans and a linen shirt. _God, he’s so sexy_.

“Matt, I have to tell you something!” Sylvie blurted.

He froze mid-step, startled, before walking over to the couch with the beginnings of trepidation on his face. 

“Okay…Shoot.” He said when he reached her.

Throat dry, Sylvie got out her phone and showed him the picture.

“I took this when we were by the pool, obviously, and I didn’t plan to show it to anyone.”

His brow furrowed as he realised what the picture was and he looked up at her face, eyes searching. After a beat, expression still neutral, he prompted. “Okay...”

Steeling herself, Sylvie confessed quietly. “I accidentally sent it to the firehouse women chat.” 

There was a long moment where he didn’t seem to have heard her; her stomach clenched in fear.

“Oh.” He finally reacted, though she couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t angry or freaked out… his brow was lightly pinched, corners of his mouth turning down a touch.

He looked at her after a beat, face clearing. “Is that it?”

“Is that…” She repeated weakly. “Aren’t you…? I mean, you’re not weirded out by this?”

“Should I be?” He asked, suddenly wary. 

“No! It was a complete accident! I just…this doesn’t bother you?”

“I mean, it’s just a picture of me walking, why would that bother me?”

She was about to point out his intense expression and sexy strut but swallowed the words down. If he hadn’t considered that angle, she wasn’t about to bring it up and potentially embarrass him. As well as out herself as being super-interested in the photo for that reason.

“Is this what you were going on about at the vineyard?” He asked, lips twitching. “That strange hypothetical?”

“Oh God!” She slapped her forehead as she remembered.

Miraculously, Matt started chuckling. Relief draining strength from her knees, she swayed a little as she began to giggle.

“I am so glad we’re both sworn to secrecy about all that.” She related a little breathlessly.

He pointed at her in agreement, then asked curiously. “Who’s in this chat anyway?”

She cleared her throat. “Oh, uh. Just me, Emily and Stella,” her voice got quieter and quieter as she went on, “and Trudy, Donna and Cindy.”

He considered that for a moment, then asked dryly. “I don’t want to know what they said about it, right?”

“That’s for the best.” She re-joined shyly.

He shook himself, then indicated to the door. “Ready to go?”

She nodded and they left. 

…

It was quite a fancy restaurant: decorated in what Matt now associated with French aesthetic: dark reds and wooden furnishings; polished wooden tables and chairs with minimal dressings on the tables. Best of all, the restaurant was on the riverfront. They had a table by the window so they could watch people walking along the front, the boats and river tours chugging up and down the water.

Matt approved of the personable waitress and simple menu. He had insisted that his at least was in English because as much as he enjoyed Sylvie’s halting translations – the bridge of her nose wrinkling in thought was something he secretly loved watching – he wanted a more serious tone.

That night he was going to tell Sylvie how he felt. 

All day in the back of his mind he’d been turning the idea over and over. Going back and forth on whether to mention the swell of emotion tied to her presence in his life.

The photo thing had confused him until he’d realised _why_ she’d taken that photo of him in the first place. She wasn’t the type of person to try and embarrass people; not that he would feel ashamed of anyone seeing a picture of him walking for goodness sake.

No, Sylvie _liked_ him. At least, aesthetically. She liked looking at him in his swim trunks. So much so she’d taken a picture for prosperity. If she’d taken it for a completely innocent reason then she would have shown him, or not have been mortified that anyone else had seen it.

Matt was aware that some women found him attractive.

Before he’d met Hallie, there had been a mildly terrifying period of his life when Cindy had tried to set him up with seemingly every unattached woman from her church. All of the dates had been perfectly nice but he hadn’t clicked with any of them. There had, however, been the occasion he’d foolishly agreed to attend a church event and Herrmann had performed a daring rescue: extricating Matt from a gaggle of middle-aged to elderly women clucking over how skinny he was and how he’d be perfect for their niece/granddaughter/best friend’s friend’s girl. Needless to say Herrmann had earned a month off bathroom duty for that.

This was different, however. Sylvie didn’t just like the look of him, she was attracted to him. The secrecy, the shame, the nervousness about telling him… No other explanation made sense.

Now he couldn’t be sure if her feelings were physical attraction alone but, there had been other hints here and there. The holding hands, the lingering looks and the fact she’d leaned into the kiss. That was on this trip alone, not even counting moments together at the house. Hell, _Severide_ had urged Matt to tell her how he felt. His friend wouldn’t have done that unless he’d seen something too.

Both Matt and Sylvie had been through the wars in terms of bad or doomed relationships, so it made sense they wanted to be cautious. But they were in France, in Paris: the most romantic city in the world! This trip had been the most fun Matt had had in years. If now wasn’t the time to take a risk, when was? 

So a few minutes after they got their mains, Matt took in a deep breath. He had to do it now or he’d chicken out. He saw Sylvie frown at him and open her mouth, so he blurted.

“Sylvie, I like you.”

Sylvie opened her mouth but no sound came out. She looked down at his thumb rubbing the table and from her expression, it was clear she understood his meaning.

In her hesitation, he started to babble. “Romantically. Obviously. I mean, last night wasn’t just because I was drunk. I uh, don’t know how much you might have picked up on…?”

“I…a little.” She murmured finally, her hands starting to wring together on the table.

“Okay,” he nodded, “well, I do like you, a lot.” He fought back a wince at how thin his voice sounded.

Clearing his throat, he tried again. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. You have this fire in you but it’s not,” he did wince then, regretting not writing it down beforehand, “it doesn’t hurt being around you. In fact, it’s good, really good I… I’ve never laughed so much or felt as s- uh, as much like myself with anyone before.”

He swallowed, kicking himself for almost confessing to feeling _safe_ with her. _Get a grip, Matt_.

Her head was tilted down, gaze averted from him: embarrassed but flattered? Or embarrassed and uncomfortable? 

“-and I don’t expect anything, I just want that clear.” He said, shifting down a little, trying to meet her eyes.

Her hands stilled on the table and she seemed less tense. _Okay, good, keep on reassuring her, Matt_.

“No matter how you feel about me, I will still respect you as a colleague and a friend.”

Her head bobbed up and down a few times, though her gaze was unfocused so maybe she wasn’t completely understanding him. He should probably wait for her to say something, but like a dam breaking, the words kept pouring out of him. 

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way I just thought…My feelings are strong enough to tell you and if I can’t tell you in Paris of all places...” His voice faded into a weak laugh and his gaze dropped to the steak in front of her. She’d hardly eaten any. He’d ruined her appetite. _Well done, you-_

“Matt…” Sylvie started. As he looked up at her though, she trailed off: eyes wide and shining. She looked genuinely lost and that made him even more nervous than disgust or a plain ‘no’. The silence stretched between them.

He started babbling again. “I know, all of the house romance stuff, and both of us have baggage, you could say, but I think there’s something here, right? You...do you…?”

Maybe he’d misjudged this. He’d put her on the spot in a public place, in a foreign country no less! They had to go back and share a room. He could picture it, lying awake listening to each other not sleeping. God, this was a nightmare. His face felt hot and his breaths got shorter. Feeling a little desperate, he asked.

“Sylvie…can you say something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mwahahahahaha!  
> You set the pace! How long will the slow burn burn? Matt is all in but how will Sylvie respond?  
> French: clients pompettes = tipsy clients/guests  
> Most of the drunk stories were adapted from my friends’ drunken antics but the chocolate cigar story is pretty much word for word what happened to my friend. Also at the same wedding she tried to convince the DJ to play her favourite song by insisting the bride had requested it. It was so cute.  
> Quick note unrelated to the plot: I just love exploring Matt’s relationships with secondary characters, especially long-term ones like Cindy. Matt!hugs are very rare and usually reserved for life/death situations or moments of intense emotion, so when he hugs Cindy after she brings him groceries after his place burns down, it shows how much the gesture means to him. I like to think it’s because of how long they’ve known each other and many, many soft moments between them.
> 
> Vote for Chapter 8 – just one, major, crucial, decision:  
> 1\. What does Sylvie say?  
> a) she panics and downplays her return affection  
> b) she reciprocates but doesn’t want to risk their friendship  
> c) she reciprocates but says neither of them is ready for another relationship [so maybe in the future]  
> d) she reciprocates and they decide to try dating
> 
> [Remember that Brettsey is endgame so all but one of these options is just stalling the inevitable.] 
> 
> I will count the votes on: Wednesday 6th May around 10am CEST and I hope to update on Wednesday 13th May.
> 
> Warning: previously, I could write some scenes whilst waiting for the votes but as this decision completely changes the tone and pace of the next few days, I won’t start on chapter 8 until after the votes all come in. This will mean a longer turnaround time on chapter 8, see above. I would apologise but I think it’ll be worth it. Guess we’ll see.  
> As ever, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: Votes a) 0 b) 1 c) 1 d) 28   
> I guess there's no surprise here. So I'm going to try and beat my Wednesday deadline but we'll see. Also the next chapter might be a bit shorter but as we will return to the normal voting system so there'll be three decisions for the following chapter so we should be back to normal length.  
> Thanks again everyone who commented, even just to vote, it all means a lot. *kisses*


	8. Day 7: Paris, France

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got it done, yay! I like to think to spirit of Dalida helped me.

“Wow.” Sylvie croaked. Her head was a mess, seemingly crammed full of conflicting emotions: fear, joy, dread and cautious hope. He’d said that his feelings for her outweighed the difficulties they could face. Was it the same for her?

The truth was that she didn’t know.

She forced herself to look him in the eye and his anxious expression stirred her compassion. At the very least, he deserved to know of her feelings.

“I like you too. Romantically.” She admitted quietly.

He sat up straight, letting out a long breath, tension loosened a little.

Feeling more focused, Sylvie continued. “I do feel the same way. I feel more sure of myself around you, like I can do anything.”

Saying it out loud was scary but also freeing, like a weight on her chest had been lifted. She let out a small, awkward titter and he blew out a half-laugh, half-breath in response. Sylvie took a gulp of wine.

“Good.” Matt murmured, almost to himself. He caught her eye and blushed. “I mean…that’s good, right?”

Sylvie shrugged a little helplessly.

“No, it is. It’s…uh…?” Matt began confidently but then trailed off as he couldn’t think of another word.

“Good?” Sylvie finished, teasingly.

Matt made a face at her and they shared a stilted laugh.

Sylvie bit her lip, looking up at him through her lashes. “You told me once that relationships in the house weren’t easy.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” He tilted his head, considering. “Well it’s true, I’m not denying that.” Taking in a deep breath, he said plainly. “I just think when it’s right, it’s right.”

Foster had said pretty much the same thing and whilst breaking up with the Chaplain had hurt, Sylvie didn’t regret the relationship. Sure it wouldn’t be plain sailing, but she couldn’t deny the depth of her feelings for Matt. If he was willing to put it all on the line, why shouldn’t she?

“I think I might agree with you about that.” Sylvie replied after a beat.

And in that moment, watching Matt’s eyes round a little as he processed what she’d said, Sylvie’s doubts faded. They didn’t completely disappear but now they were background noise. She knew that she was on the brink of loving this man and the possibility that he might love her back outweighed everything else.

She glanced down at their virtually untouched meals. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes.” He replied immediately, turning to flag down a waiter.

…

They ended up walking along the river, hand in hand, looking for a quieter place to talk that wasn’t their hotel room. Sylvie spotted an unoccupied bench in between the trees and they meandered over. Before they sat down though, Sylvie tugged on Matt’s hand and brought him in closer. She rose up on her toes and kissed him.

He tensed in surprise for a second, before relaxing and bringing his free arm around her waist. His woody smell mixing with her flowery perfume formed a little pocket of scent around them that made Sylvie lean even closer in.

Eventually, she broke away and lowered back down to her heels.

At his questioning look she shrugged. “Didn’t want to wait anymore.”

His answering smile made her heart flutter. They sat on the bench, angled towards each other, still holding hands.

“So we both want to be together.” Matt established.

“All in.” She confirmed, heart racing.

Matt beamed. “Well, that answers my next question. We’ll be exclusive, right?”

“Of course!” She exclaimed, slightly offended.

“Just checking!” He huffed a sigh. “I know we’ve known each other for years but, I just want to be clear and open, always.” Gaze falling to their hands, he murmured. “It’s horrible not being sure where you stand and being afraid to ask.”

She fought the urge to cup his cheek, then remembered that she didn’t have to hold back. At her touch, he looked up.

She tried to pour all her affection into her eyes. “I get it. I want to be with you, just you, for as long as it makes us both happy.”

Matt blinked hard a few times and her insides softened to a mush.

Clearing his throat, Matt asked. “So what do I call you?”

“Not Shnookums!”

Matt snorted. “Why would you ever think…? Who called you that?”

Sylvie blushed. “No one, but it was the first thing that popped into my head.”

Still chuckling, Matt shook his head. “Okay well, first off: no, and I meant more like how do we introduce ourselves? As boyfriend and girlfriend? Partners?”

“Oh, um,” she thought for a moment, “I guess girlfriend and boyfriend?” She knew it was the answer he was hoping for as his eyes widened a little when she said it.

It was almost overwhelming to bask in his reactions and not have to look away or change the subject. Sylvie didn’t know how long they stayed just looking at each other. 

As light as she felt right then, however, there was still something niggling at her.

“So…we each have a single bed.”

Matt caught onto her meaning immediately. There was a flash of that hungry look that made her fight a shiver, but as she watched the fire in his eyes banked and he murmured. “I want to do this right so…we should probably use them.”

“It’s a good call.” She agreed readily, before tilting her head with a small smile. “At least for now.”

He grinned back at her, eyes darting across her face. She leaned into his gaze, cheeks heating under the attention.

Sobering a little, he asked softly. “I know we have to talk about the house and what will happen when we get back but, just for now, can we not?”

She smiled and squeezed his hands reassuringly. “Sounds good.”

Sunlight was fading fast, the pastel pink sky bathing everything in a warm glow. There were people on the street, but no loud crowds of slow-moving tourists. Everything seemed a bit more tranquil and almost dream-like.

“Hey, let’s take a picture.” Matt suggested. They crossed the road and leant up against the railing on the riverfront, scooting in as far as possible without literally being on top of each other. Sylvie held out her phone, resting her head against Matt’s shoulder. He put an arm around her, pulling her in just that bit closer, head tilted against hers.

They took a few dozen pictures, most were serious with one where they were both laughing and the image was a little blurred. It was Sylvie’s favourite.

“You gonna send them to anyone?” Matt asked, purely curious.

She looked up at him. “No. It’s like you said before: it’s just you and me here.”

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Inordinately charmed, Sylvie took his chin and gave him one right back. It was a little odd against the stubble but not unpleasant.

“So, to be sure: we’re not telling people.” He stated, though his searching eyes conveyed his question.

She considered it. “On the one hand, I think everyone would be happy for us.” Her eyes narrowed, thinking of Foster. “And I know at least one person will be all smug about it.”

Matt huffed a laugh. “Make that two.”

Sylvie put away her phone and wrapped both arms around him. “On the other, I want it to be you and me for a little bit.” He brought his other arm up to pull her in more, eyes soft. She had to lift her chin up but she only smiled. “Guess I’ve been spoiled lately. Don’t want to have to share you.”

He kissed her gently and they held still in the moment. Then he pulled back a fraction.

“Good, it’s not just me then.” He murmured, before kissing her again. 

…

Sylvie woke up feeling on top of the world. She was a little confused until she remembered why. Sitting up in bed, she could just make out Matt’s still form with the sunlight filtering in through the gaps in the curtains. She could hear his slow breaths and glancing at the time, decided to let him sleep.

Easing up to go to the bathroom, she couldn’t help but linger over him for a minute. He was lying on his stomach but his face was turned to the side so she could see his relaxed expression. The lines around his eyes were lighter, tension in his jaw and brows gentled: he looked young. He didn’t look at all like a Captain who bore the weight of his firefighters’ lives, or even a man who made everyone else’s well-being his responsibility. He was almost serene in sleep and Sylvie made a note of it.

Matt didn’t need massages or spa treatments to relax: just a break from his burdens. Hell, he’d already been looser and more smiley from their vacation alone.

His eyelashes fluttered a little as his eyes moved under the lids and his fingers curled into the bed sheet. She wondered what he was dreaming about.

Cheeks reddening as she realised how long she’d been staring at him, she slipped away.

As quiet as she’d tried to be, he was awake when she returned to the bedroom. Though adorably, he wasn’t quite alert.

“What time is it?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s still early, you can go back to sleep.” Sylvie replied, sitting on the edge of her bed and unable to help the corner of her mouth lifting at the sight of him all soft and drowsy.

“And miss running up the Eiffel Tower?” He half-yawned, shifting up to sit against the headboard. His hair was all ruffled and Sylvie was about to force her eyes away before remembering she didn’t have to. Blinking, he noticed her scrutiny and his face seemed to go through a rolodex of emotions before settling on bemused.

“Do I have pillow cheek?”

“No.” She replied airily, still staring fondly. To her delight, he began to blush.

He coughed and she took pity on him, standing and declaring: “Okay. We only have one more day in Paris, let’s not waste it.”

…

They walked a different route to the tower, hand in hand and ambling; completely uncaring of their previous plan to power walk to the tower and use the stairs as an ending to their morning work-out.

There were commuters and children going to school, cyclists whizzing down the cycle lanes and buses turning around corners leisurely. There was a slight breeze and at one point a strong gust shook some leaves down around them in a dancing shower.

“Okay.” Matt said. “These streets are pretty.”

Remembering her talk about the Morris columns the day before, Sylvie beamed.

“Stick with me, kid. I’ll take ya places.”

Matt guffawed, though the look he shot her was fond. “Pretty sure that’s not the quote.” 

She just stuck her tongue out at him and linked their arms; heart fit to bursting.

They arrived at the Champs de Mars just as other tourists seemed to be waking up and venturing out. It was a long park just in front of the tower, filled with beautiful gardens and temporary exhibitions. As charming as it was, however, they had the Tower in their sights. 

Matt and Sylvie decided to get a lift up to the top floor, seeing as it was looking to be a fantastically clear day and the queue wasn’t as long as the day before and, well, they were in love.

“Why doesn’t standing in line for hours sound so bad now?” Sylvie mused out loud, mostly rhetorically.

“Well for one it isn’t going to be _hours_ , and secondly,” Matt swung their linked hands up to kiss the back of her hand.

She stepped into his space. “You make a very good point.”

He smiled down at her and they stared into each other’s eyes for so long that it took an irritated cough from behind for them to realize the line had moved. Sylvie jumped and looked bashful as she moved up whilst Matt’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek.

They paid attention for a few minutes, before Matt shifted and their shoulders brushed. Sylvie looked up and got caught in his eyes again. The next time, the cough didn’t bother either of them.

When they finally got their tickets and reached the top of the Tower: it was a breath-taking sight. The whole city was spread out before them: starting in neat rows of the centre streets before becoming less regimented the further out they went. The yellow-orange bricks and blue rooves of the central buildings lent a brightness to the scene and the whole city stretched out to a kind of blue haze on the horizon.

Sylvie took a few snaps and Matt followed close behind as she went around the platform, alternating between looking at the view and looking at her. Satisfied with her collection, Sylvie pulled Matt in for some photos together. He bent a little and leant his head against hers: both of them beaming.

As she lowered her phone to check the quality, Matt nuzzled the side of her neck which caused her to almost drop her phone. Near-squeaking, she slapped his chest weakly but otherwise didn’t complain about his sloppy kiss.

Grinning, Matt pulled back and then affected an obviously fake-innocent expression. “Any good ones?” He asked, nodding to the phone.

“For that, you get a solo photo shoot.” She countered, stepping back and training the camera on him. 

He pretended to be hugely against that; holding his hands up and gasping in mock-protest.

Sylvie just smirked and directed him. “More sexy!”

Mindful of the other tourists on the relatively small platform, Matt put his hands on his hips and frowned mock-reproachfully. Despite his humorous intentions, it actually was quite an attractive look on him.

Sylvie pursed her lips, eyes gleaming, before putting away her phone and bounding up to him.

“You’re a natural!” She simpered.

“Yeah, yeah.” He huffed even as he took her hand. “Come on trouble, let’s go.”

Back on the ground with some time before lunch, Sylvie gently insisted on visiting the chocolate museum.

“Since I couldn’t go on the three-hour pastry tour.” She mock-pouted.

Matt laughed. “I never said we couldn’t do that one.”

“You made a face.” She argued, crossing her arms petulantly.

Laughing, he shook his head and waved a hand in a flourish, half-bowing. “Whatever my lady says…”

She narrowed her eyes, making him hold up his hands in mock-surrender.

Playing along, she huffed and stuck her nose up. “Watch your tongue, peasant.”

She led the way, checking the map on her phone whenever they reached the end of a street. As the frequent driver on ambo, she knew her way around Chicago like the back of her hand. This was another kettle of fish, however, the tiny street signs and messy intersections were disorientating.

Every so often she could feel Matt stiffen beside her, knowing exactly where to go but refraining from taking over. Sylvie tried to not let this bother her and it wasn’t until he made a choked off noise at a junction that she glared up at him for real.

“I didn’t say anything!” He protested pre-emptively.

Frustrated and feeling bad for taking it out on him, she huffed. “Why don’t you just do it?”

“No, no.” He encouraged her. “We’re almost there.”

“How do you know…? Never mind.” She shook her head, squared her shoulders and set off again. When she looked back he was smiling fondly at her and her irritation melted away.

They made it to the museum in one piece, though Sylvie had to turn them around at one point, and once inside away from the bustle of the street Matt took her hand.

He didn’t say anything but his expression held a commendation all by itself, which absurdly made Sylvie’s heart glow.

In the museum, there was an interesting exhibition about the history of chocolate, but the main attraction was the demo and tasting.

The chocolatier explained the difference between the three main classifications of chocolate – dark, milk and white – as they worked with big batches of all three. The smell was incredible and had Sylvie bouncing on her toes. After the demo, they were handed samples to taste, with the differences being explained by the chocolatier.

“I wish we’d known about the ‘make your own chocolate’ experience before we came.” Sylvie lamented as they saw people with tickets entering another room.

“Wait, isn’t Belgium known for chocolate?” Matt reminded her. “I’m sure I remember something about it in the guide book.”

Sylvie’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Oh, I can’t wait!”

Matt laughed. “Okay, now let’s get some lunch before the tour.”

…

The Montmartre tour started at the Moulin Rouge, the world famous cabaret. Matt and Sylvie found the guide easily thanks to her brightly coloured umbrella.

The tour guide was Angie, a London-born student ‘turned full-time Parisian’ – in her own words.

“I was only meant to be here a year for my Masters but, that was three years ago.” She explained enthusiastically.

The other members of the group were: Kevin and Raymond, a middle-aged gay couple; Hoshi and Travis, young newly-weds who couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, and two teenage girls, Sasha and Tatiana, who looked excited to be there but nervous around everyone else.

Sylvie felt a rush of pride and joy as Matt introduced them as boyfriend and girlfriend. She always experienced a little flutter whenever hearing herself being referred to as ‘girlfriend’, but the way Matt said it felt different; almost like she’d heard him say it a thousand times before.

“So, we begin at the Moulin Rouge, perhaps the most famous cabaret in the world.” Angie told them about how it was built and the early history, the development of the can-can and how perceptions of the area made it a popular place for rich Parisians to ‘slum it’ for a night.

“Unfortunately on 27th February 1917, there was a fire in the early morning which devastated the ballroom and auditorium. Despite the firefighter’s best efforts, only a portion of the stage was left standing. So the Moulin Rouge had to close its doors.” Angie left a dramatic pause, which turned out to be a mistake. 

“But Francis Salabert took over the running of the cabaret after the end of World War I and it reopened in 1921.” Kevin interjected.

Angie paused a moment before her smile widened. “Oh, have you been on this tour before?”

“No.” Kevin replied matter-of-factly. “But I have been seconded in Paris for a few months, so it seemed judicious to read up on the history of the city.” He addressed the group. “As he was more of a business man, Salabert employed leading impresario Jacques-Charles, to oversee the ‘artistic choices’.”

Unsure how to respond, Sylvie nodded with an exaggerated interested expression on her face and avoided looking at Angie, whose mouth was hanging open slightly. Hoshi and Travis hadn’t seemed to have noticed the tension but the teenagers were looking between Kevin and Angie with some trepidation.

“The same Jacques-Charles who co-produced _La Revue Mistinguett_?” Raymond asked, almost rhetorically, also in a flawless French accent Matt noticed.

“The same.” Kevin confirmed and though neither smiled exactly, Sylvie saw a certain warmth in their gazes.

“Wow, it’ll be so great having some history buffs on the tour with us!” Angie announced loudly.

Sylvie bit her lip and risked a glance at Matt, almost letting loose a laugh at his startled expression.

The tour continued in much the same vein: Angie trying to maintain her composure through Kevin and Raymond’s knowledgeable additions; the young couple oblivious, the teens shy and Sylvie trying not to laugh at Matt’s reaction to the drama. She must have seen those faces before during house antics, but she didn’t have any clear memories of them. Something told her she would definitely remember them now.

On the walk from Sacre Coeur to their next stop, Matt got into a conversation with Raymond about their jobs. Matt was not entirely surprised to learn that Raymond was a police captain in New York: he did have an almost regal air about him.

“I respect the work of firefighters,” Raymond said, “even if some of my squad do not.”

Matt nodded, knowing that whilst the rivalry between his firefighters and the local precinct was friendly, some weren’t.

He replied. “Well, police work is very impressive. The guys down at the 21st district have helped us out of plenty of jams over the years. I could never do what you do.”

“Yes, there is nothing quite like the rush of solving a crime, putting the pieces together and making the arrest can act as a very substantial natural high. I lament sometimes that my rank has severely limited the amount of time I can spend on cases.”

Matt sympathised. “Why do promotions always seem to triple the amount of paperwork?”

“You are an officer?”

“A captain! In charge of three companies.” Sylvie interjected, from where she’d been walking in companionable silence with Kevin. Matt glanced back at her and she fixed him with a knowing look; he would have downplayed his position had it been left up to him.

Turning back to Raymond, Matt shrugged. “I mostly just kick in doors, sit in meetings and sign off on furlough requests.”

Raymond half-smiled. “That sounds very familiar, with less of the door-kicking than I would like.” 

Sylvie didn’t hear the rest of their conversation, because Sasha tripped and fell to the pavement. Tatiana immediately dropped to her knees beside her, talking to her in a language Sylvie didn’t understand. Sasha sat up but was cradling her knee, wincing.

Sylvie crouched down next to the pair. “Ouch, that was quite a spill. Will you let me see? I’m a paramedic.”

Sasha nodded shyly and Tatiana clasped her shoulder reassuringly as Sylvie rolled up Sasha’s trouser leg.

“I know first aid!” Angie called as she jogged over.

Sylvie glanced up to see the others had gathered around them loosely, so Angie – who’d been in front – had to politely push past them. The wind was taken out of her sails, however, when Matt told her that Sylvie was a paramedic.

“I’m fine.” Sasha commented to Sylvie quietly, in accented English.

Sylvie smiled at her. “I’m sure you are. Let’s just check.” She uncovered the knee to see the skin hadn’t been broken. She said reassuringly to Tatiana: “there’ll be a bruise but otherwise she’s fine.”

Tatiana nodded thankfully and together they helped Sasha to her feet. 

“Alright, onto the next stop.” Angie clapped her hands together with a slightly manic look in her eye. 

Place Dalida was a beautiful square connecting two very picturesque streets. The small plateau at the bottom of a hill was covered in cobbles and surrounded by pretty apartments. In the centre was a small bust dedicated to beloved French singer and gay icon, Dalida, whom the square had been named after.

Angie told them of Dalida’s career from the 50s up until her death in the 80s which involved albums, tours, movies and competitions. She had been and continued to be a very popular French figure, especially in gay culture.

“Her disco tracks were huge hits and she had a reputation of being larger than life but also deeply respectful of her fans.” Angie explained.

Her professional success, however, had been offset by a number of tragedies in her personal life.

Sylvie’s heart ached to contemplate losing so many people and suffering so much.

Angie played them one of Dalida’s most famous songs, called _Je Suis Malade_ *. 

It sounded nice, though Matt understood nothing.

“I got the word ‘whiskey’.” He murmured to Sylvie, who put a hand on his arm both to steady herself as she leaned in to hear better and also to shush him. As much as she’d been studying the phrase book and practising ordering in restaurants, understanding a whole song was another matter.

“She’s explaining the ruination of her life after losing a great love.” Raymond clarified.

“‘Je suis malade’ literally translates to ‘I am sick’, but the singer evokes more the idea of being inconsolable, desolate in the face of such a loss.”

Sylvie nodded in appreciation but was distracted by feeling Matt’s arm tense underneath her hand. She glanced up at him but couldn’t read his expression; if she had to guess, his tight jaw and narrowing of his eyes were masking something else.

“Yes.” Angie piped up, distracting Sylvie. “She describes not being able to eat or sleep, feeling abandoned like an orphan in her apartment. She says ‘all the whiskeys taste the same to me.’”

After sending Angie a smile, Sylvie looked back at Matt but he’d relaxed: all traces of unease gone. She filed away the reaction to ponder over another time.

Later, at the Maison Rose where Picasso frequented, Hoshi disentangled herself from her new husband long enough to chat to Sylvie about their attempts to learn French. Though Hoshi claimed to be a beginner, she seemed much more advanced and her accent was flawless.

Travis had overheard and commented: “She has an exceptional ear. You should hear her impressions of my family. They’re hilarious!”

“I wish I could pick up languages and accents that quickly.” Sylvie commented enviously.

Hoshi waved a hand. “Please, doing what you do is so much more impressive. I mean you save lives.”

Sylvie was about to demure when a voice called from ahead of them. “And is just a badass in general.”

Matt grinned when Sylvie found his eyes and held out his hands as if to say ‘am I wrong?’ Sylvie was unable to pretend to be annoyed, instead ducking her head a little. When she looked at Hoshi again, she saw the other woman smiling knowingly.

Meanwhile, the two teens were coming out of their shell as Kevin began to talk to them in, what appeared to Sylvie to be, flawless Russian.

“I would join them but I only have a rudimentary understanding of the Slavic languages. The Romances are more my area.” Raymond commented to Matt, who nodded confidently in response, despite Sylvie suspecting he hadn’t quite followed the other man’s meaning.

She and Hoshi had caught up with the others at the next stop, so Sylvie stepped into Matt’s space and leant into him; he startled minutely, before putting an arm around her, smiling. 

As they neared the end of the tour, Angie had largely given up trying to wrest control back from Kevin so he was pretty much giving all of the information about the sights.

Feeling bad for her, Sylvie gave her a large tip in addition to the fee she and Matt had agreed to pay.

They said goodbye to the others and wished them all well with their trips.

“Okay, that’s enough sharing you for today, especially with those language buffs.” Sylvie announced as they walked away.

Chuckling, Matt hugged her with one arm and kissed the side of her head. “Yes, dear.”

She elbowed him playfully in response, before taking his hand and leading him back to the hotel. 

…

After a nice, romantic dinner where they talked about the day and their plans for Belgium, Matt and Sylvie took the metro to the other side of the hotel and walked back up the river. The sun had set and the last light in the sky was fading, street lamps just turning on. It wasn’t too cold so they were able to walk at a leisurely pace, hand in hand.

Sylvie didn’t think she’d ever tire of the feeling: Matt’s fingers were calloused but his palms were dry and warm, plus he’d swing their arms a little when he got enthusiastic about what they were discussing. Somehow, his hand clasped in hers felt akin to an all-encompassing hug. Or maybe that was Sylvie’s unreasonable happiness and continuing disbelief that they were finally together.

“I wish we had longer.” Sylvie sighed, looking out across the river.

“Well, we can always come back some day.” Matt suggested carefully.

Pulling him to a stop, she slid her arms around his back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reciprocated, hands cupping her shoulders. “I know this is Day One of you and me, officially, but I really feel like it’s the beginning of something amazing.” Sylvie’s heart swelled and a lump grew in her throat. After a beat of her silence, Matt tempered. “If that isn’t too soon to say.”

Swallowing, Sylvie shook her head. “No, I feel just the same.”

Eventually, they broke apart and retook each other’s hands, strolling along through the light, Parisian evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Je Suis Malade is one of my favourite French songs [I am such a sucker for dramatic ballads].  
> Popularised by Dalida in the 60s, it’s become a ‘competition song’ and there are a lot of versions out there. There isn’t really a good translation of the title in English; ‘I Am Sick’ is what I see most but it doesn’t really cover the same meaning as the French ‘malade’ [which can mean: ill, uneasy or obsessed]. I’d recommend watching the Lara Fabian version for the English subtitles and goose bumps. Not a perfect translation but you get an accurate idea of the imagery and emotion and omg the acapella section gets me every time.  
> Dalida version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEoft6dypiQ  
> Lara Fabian version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVvlmpo5g9k 
> 
> Now I know some of you were worried about consequences of Matt and Sylvie getting together now. Whilst it won’t be pure sunshine and roses [because no serious relationship is], don’t worry about misunderstandings and other angsty shtick. Matt and Sylvie are sensible and empathetic people, now they’re together, they’re together: end of. 
> 
> In an upcoming chapter Matt and Sylvie are going to decide what pet names to call each other. I’ve only decided they will NOT call each other ‘babe/baby’, otherwise I’m kind of stuck for English language endearments that I like [I have some French ones in mind]. If you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them in your comment and I’ll put the most popular ones up for vote when we get to it. [probably Chapter 11/12]
> 
> Votes for Chapter 9  
> 1\. Matt and Sylvie talk about…  
> a) why they became first responders  
> b) tough family moments  
> c) worst calls
> 
> 2\. In Brussels, Matt and Sylvie stay in…  
> a) a studio apartment belonging to one of Olivier’s friends [the friend lives across the hall]  
> b) an air bnb [with the host living in]  
> c) a hostel [they have their own room but share a bathroom and kitchenette with others]
> 
> 3\. Severide has slipped…into Matt’s bag, which Sylvie discovers by accident.  
> a) an erotic thriller  
> b) a guide to romantic holiday destinations  
> c) condoms
> 
> I will count the votes on Wednesday 13th May around 10am CEST and I will try to update on Friday 15th.  
> As ever, thanks for reading :D
> 
> EDIT: 1a 2a 3c


	9. Day 8: Brussels, Belgium

The train journey was only two hours and the French countryside gave way so smoothly to Belgian fields that Sylvie couldn’t pinpoint the moment they’d crossed the border.

Brussels was a grand city: the buildings made of grey and white brick, parks and pedestrian areas in the centre making it feel welcoming and calm. The capital of both French-Belgium and Flemmish-Belgium as well as being the centre of European politics, the city held many local and international institutions including the European Union and NATO. There were also plenty of World Heritage Sites and just beautiful architecture in general.

When hearing they were thinking of stopping in Brussels on their way to Amsterdam, Olivier had insisted they stay with one of his friends who rented their studio apartment. He’d promised them a good rate and excellent hospitality. Seeing as the friend, Valentin, had listing on some flat sharing websites and Olivier had been so hospitable and upstanding, Matt and Sylvie agreed.

They booked the apartment through a website, though Valentin insisted on giving them a discount as they’d been guests of Olivier’s and wouldn’t accept no for an answer. Sylvie had placated Matt’s guilt by suggesting they leave a big tip at the end. 

The building was an elegant house constructed with white and red brick; decorated with intricate iron railings on the balconies and boasting a big, sturdy wooden door.

Valentin greeted them at the front door. A smaller and slighter man than Olivier, he had a thin face and watery eyes which lit up as he saw them.

“ _Mes cheris_ *! Come in, come in!”

As they went up the stairs, Sylvie and Valentin chatted about Olivier’s hotel and Brussels – Matt adding asides, mostly about Sylvie’s French linguistic skills.

The studio apartment was compact though the light colours on the walls and bright decorations created a sense of space. There was one big room with a kitchenette, breakfast bar and, separated by a low bookshelf, a double bed on the other side of the room. A decent-sized bathroom lay behind the bed: marble tile and white fittings contributed to the clean lines and modern feel.

Matt felt grateful that he and Sylvie weren’t denying their feelings anymore as that would have made the small living quarters feel awkward. He had to tamp down on the thought that being in this studio apartment for a few days would be like a trial run of moving in together. It was way too early to be thinking about that.

“I will just be across the hall in case you need anything.” Valentin told them before leaving them alone.

Sylvie pushed her suitcase against the closet and looked around. “I like it.”

“Well, it’s not a castle.” Matt commented innocently, barely dodging away from her whack.

“I think it’s great.” She said, emphasising each syllable. Matt grinned.

They sat down at the breakfast bar to plan their moves for the next few days.

“Okay so pretty much everyone says you have to visit Bruges.” Sylvie began, in full-planning mode.

Matt didn’t bother to hide his smile or the fact that he was staring at her look of concentration.

“According to the weather it’s going to rain tomorrow afternoon, so maybe we should do it the day after.”

Matt saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sylvie shot him a look, clearly unsure how ironic he was being. He affected a guiltless expression and she just pointed a finger at him warningly.

She looked back down at the screen. “So, tours we can do tomorrow morning are…”

She trailed off and started laughing really hard. Matt laughed a little too, confused. “What?”

It took almost a full minute for Sylvie to calm down enough to read from her phone: “Train World is a unique rail experience that will take you from the very first steam locomotives to high-speed trains!”

She broke into giggles and Matt joined her, shaking his head. “You’re so cruel, what’s wrong with trains?”

Sylvie recovered her composure enough to respond. “Nothing, it’s just funny how it’s worded.” She asked. “Okay, so I’ve found the serious tours. Do you want to do the chocolate tour, the beer tour, or the chocolate and beer tour?”

“Is that a trick question?” He re-joined with a smile.

She grinned back at him. “Chocolate and beer tour it is!”

…

They walked around the centre of the town.

The Grand Place, literally meaning big plaza, definitely lived up to its name. The large square was home to guild houses, City Hall and the Maison du Roi. The City Hall building was the grandest in the square, with a tall tower piercing the skyline and looming large above them. The rest of the building was also impressive: built from white stone with carvings and gold detailing around the windows.

Sylvie read from the guidebook. “The top of the tower boasts a statue of Saint Michael slaying a demon.”

Matt squinted, trying to make out the figures at the top. The angle wasn’t right but he could see a gold shape on the spire.

“It is the square’s only remaining medieval building and the asymmetry is due to the building taking place many years apart, and not, according to local legend, because of the architect’s error. Oh,” Sylvie scrunched her face up, “apparently the legend says he jumped out of the belfry from the shame.”

“Good thing it’s not true then.” Matt commented absently, eyes still devouring the designs and figures carved into the walls. They walked around the square, taking in the other buildings and laidback atmosphere. It was busy, but most people seemed happy and relaxed, no one was in a rush to get anywhere. Matt took Sylvie’s hand as they studied the plaques of the guild houses and looked in the shop windows. 

Once they’d looked their fill of the square, they went down what the guide referred to as ‘museum street’. A long street just off the Grand Place which housed many museums, most of them art-related.

“Okay, so there are several art museums here, all under the same institution.” Sylvie read aloud. “There’s the Magritte museum, the modern museum, the old masters’ museum, the end of the century museum…”

“I’ve never been one for the arts.” Matt divulged, not that the information was a surprise to Sylvie.

She cocked her head. “Don’t you consider architecture an art? You do build things for a living.”

“Half a living.” Matt corrected mildly before shrugging sheepishly. “And it’s not art the way I do it.”

Sylvie pursed her lips and left that argument for another day.

Instead she asked curiously. “What was your major?”

“Uh,” Matt’s shoulders creeped up a little, “actually I didn’t go to college. I joined the Fire Academy straight after graduation.”

They came to a small park and after a shared glance, wandered in.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know that about you.” Sylvie commented after a minute.

Matt shrugged before asking. “What did you major in?”

“English.” Sylvie admitted with a hand already up to forestall jokes. “I know, it’s pretty much a useless degree.”

Matt’s brow wrinkled. “Is that what people say? I wouldn’t know.”

“Ah, well, yes a lot of people think it’s kind of a waste of time.”

“Was it?” He asked, tone completely free from judgement.

“Not for me.” She answered his question finally. “I always wanted to be a writer when I was younger so I thought studying English would be a good way into that. Turns out it’s a lot harder to make it as an author than I’d thought as a kid.” She joked and he smiled in return. “Still, I made some good friends and I think I learned things about myself.”

She sobered a little as she went on with the story. “When Harrison proposed I started preparing for married life. I trained to become a paramedic thinking I’d volunteer at the Fowlerton station, depending on how many kids we’d have.” Her gaze focused on the middle distance, remembering. “It was something local and really worthwhile that wouldn’t take up all my time. When I first started doing it, I couldn’t believe how much I loved it. Deep down I dreaded having to give it up.” 

Clouds passed over the sun, chilling the air around them. Sylvie shivered, wishing she’d worn a thicker sweater. A warm hand rubbed her upper arm and she turned her head to see Matt’s softly concerned expression. She felt warmer, not only for the arm, but by the reminder that Matt had so many concerned expressions she’d begun to classify them.

She forced a smile onto her face. “Anyway, that’s my story. Why did you join the Fire Academy? Did you always want to be a firefighter?”

Matt hesitated and Sylvie’s stomach sank. There she was overstepping again.

“It’s kind of a long story.” He answered finally, expression pinched. “At least, the true version is. Usually I just tell anyone who asks that I wanted to help people, which isn’t exactly a lie, just not all of it.” 

Sylvie was digesting that as he looked down at her. “But I want to tell you.”

He glanced around; they’d come to the other side of the park and were faced with the busy streets. Wading through the buzzing of happiness in her head, Sylvie suggested. “Over lunch?”

…

Ordering in restaurants was even more frustrating for Sylvie, as the waiters were more likely to answer in English. According to the guidebook, in Belgium, especially in the North, people generally had a high level of English and were often happy to talk with English-speakers. So Sylvie only grumbled a little when the waiter repeated her order back in English and had a short back and forth with Matt about the waiter’s love for _The Sopranos_.

“I’ve never seen it.” Matt confessed once the waiter had gone. “But I’m glad he liked it.”

Once they had their drinks, Matt began: “What do you know about my family?”

Sylvie felt her nerves jangling, though she had no idea why she should be nervous. “Uh, I know you have a sister and niece.” She swallowed, adding hesitantly. “And your mom was in prison.”

Matt nodded, expression smooth. Then he took in a deep breath. “I’m not going to go into all the details today, I mean, I do want to be open with you and my childhood, my past still affects me, even though I wish it wouldn’t.”

Her heartbeat increased as she heard that, that buzzing occupying the fringes of her mind.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, one hand tapping the table arhythmically as he went on, “as far as I can remember my parents’ relationship was ‘difficult’. They hardly ever seemed happy when they were in the same room and it wasn’t until I was an adult that I figured out what the problems were. My dad was an alcoholic and when he drank, he could be…”

Sylvie’s brow creased as he watched Matt’s eyes go distant for a second.

“Mean.” He finished the sentence, though Sylvie could tell that wasn’t a strong a word as Matt could have used.

“Even after they got divorced, they would still fight and he would say things… At the time, as much as I hated it, I didn’t think much of it. As far as I knew, that was a normal for parents.”

Sylvie could easily picture a young Matt, alone and hurting but convinced he shouldn’t be upset. Briefly, she considered what kind of things he’d been told as a child, how much that had affected his self-esteem, even to adulthood. 

“They had joint custody and when I was with dad he’d often take me to the projects he was working on. He was a contractor and he taught me a lot,” a smile flickered over his lips, “even though he really shouldn’t have had me on a lot of those sites. I enjoyed it though. They were the only times I felt close to him, like I was making him proud. When I was growing up, it seemed like a no-brainer that I would become a contractor too. I didn’t even question it.”

His eyes dropped to the table.

“Then one night, when I was fifteen, mom and dad had another fight and, according to her, he went too far, said something so terrible, so hurtful, that she couldn’t stand it.” He sighed and his chin lifted. His eyes found hers as he said. “She went over to his house and killed him.”

Although it wasn’t new information, the complex swirl of emotions on his face, the slight waver in his flat tone, clenched her heart. She reached out and clasped his hand. He squeezed back, gratitude diffusing over his features. 

“Things were bad for a long time after that, and uncertain. One thing I knew for sure though, was that I didn’t want to turn out like either of them.”

Straightening a little in his seat, he explained. “I decided that I needed somewhere with a lot of discipline, somewhere I could be useful and help people but also be watched closely. Somewhere no one would let me get away with anything. I considered the Army and the police but, I don’t think I could ever get comfortable with guns so, the fire department it was.” 

Stomach twisting, Sylvie offered tentatively. “I hope you don’t still feel…”

“Oh no,” he interrupted with a self-deprecating laugh, “that was just my eighteen-year-old way of thinking. Andy and Severide, and Hallie too, they all really helped me see myself in a different way.” He waved his free hand as if to demonstrate the purging of the negative way of thinking. “Also, when my mom got out we had a conversation that made me realise that I’m not her or dad and, as long as I’m careful, I won’t ever be.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Sylvie squeezed his hand again, eyes burning a little, and a soft smile curled onto Matt’s lips.

“Thank you for listening.”

“Always.” She insisted, leaning over the table to kiss his cheek. Blinking rapidly, she sat back down again and took some time to appreciate this man in front of her; how he had suffered so much, but instead of becoming bitter and resentful, had blossomed as a sweet, strongly-principled person who would defend his friends to the hilt and never stop fighting for what was right.

Most of all, she worked to memorise how he was looking at her; wanting to bottle the feeling it nurtured inside her chest.

…

After eating, they returned to the apartment at a leisurely pace.

They ran into Valentin on the landing. He was interested to hear what they’d thought of the city so far and eager to recommend more things.

“Don’t eat too much on this tour tomorrow: as I will cook you my famous _moules-frites_!” He had announced with a small nod; his words reminiscent of Olivier’s effusive style even if the tone was flatter. Sylvie thanked him and managed to extricate herself and Matt before Valentin promised to lavish any more hospitality on them.

As per his usual vacation habits, Matt didn’t unpack more than overnight items, leaving Sylvie free to store some clothes in the closet. She also placed a few things in the bathroom and paused at the sight of their toothbrushes together in the cup. It was a small thing, but it just felt right. If she were writing the story of their lives, it could serve as a metaphor for them. Smiling, she went back out to the main room.

They had a few hours before their dinner reservation, so they decided to use it as downtime. Sylvie curled up on the armchair to send a few pictures to her parents – only the views and – and then settle in to read her crime book. Matt was reclined on the bed, flipping through his gardening book with studied interest.

After a while, Sylvie glanced at her watch and then sighed, putting down her book and stretching out her back. It was close to when they’d need to leave so she turned to Matt but stopped short of calling him, heart-warming at the sight. He’d fallen asleep.

She found it so adorable that she gave him another twenty minutes to doze before rousing him.

“This is a unique experience.” Sylvie teased as she sat on the edge of the bed, all ready to go, and watched him running a comb through his hair.

He paused long enough to shoot her a flat look using the mirror, but it was ineffective.

She tilted her head and teased unrepentantly. “Unless you always take this long when getting ready for a date.”

Choosing to rise above her comment, Matt instead asked. “Hey, if you want to hurry this up, can you get the credit card from the inner pocket of my suitcase? I want it with us when I check the balance of my main card at the ATM. I think we over-did it in France.”

“Okay, sure.” Sylvie agreed readily, going over to his suitcase. As she looked, she called: “Haven’t you set up online banking yet?”

Matt looked back at himself in the mirror as he answered. “Yes, but I don’t exactly have my computer with me.”

Sylvie didn’t answer that, probably busy searching but then…

“Huh.”

Matt frowned, waiting for her to get back or to explain why she’d made that noise. After a beat, he heard footsteps and she arrived at the door to the bathroom. 

Glancing at her through the mirror, he couldn’t read her expression. Stomach prickling, he turned and saw what she was holding. It was a pack of condoms.

He stared for a moment and then blew out a long breath. “Severide.”

Sylvie’s eyebrow raised.

“It wasn’t me!” He defended, cheeks reddening.

“You didn’t pack twelve ‘intimate feel’ condoms in your suitcase?” She deadpanned, lips twitching.

Matt’s mouth opened but no sound came out. Sylvie’s eyes twinkled as she teased mercilessly. “How does Severide know what size-?”

Face engine red, Matt snatched the box from her and dropped it into the trash can. “I’m gonna kill him.” He muttered under his breath.

Sylvie finally took pity on him and leaned up to kiss his cheek. He relaxed minutely, though as she cupped one side of his face, she felt the lingering warmth there. Her eyes took on a heat of their own as she raked them across his features.

“You’re cute when you’re all hot and bothered.” She murmured and tension flowed out of his upper body. He snaked an arm around her back.

“Yeah?” He half-whispered, lips a scant inch away from hers. She hummed, fighting the smile when he closed the gap and kissed her firmly.

Leaning more into him, Sylvie near-purred and deepened the kiss. Moaning lowly, Matt brushed her tongue with his, interested but unhurried. Her fingers scratched his jaw lightly and his crotch twitched against her.

Tilting his head away slightly, he gasped. “What happened to slow?”

Pupils wide, panting lightly, she returned breathily. “It’s not my fault you’re so sexy.”

His eyes dropped to her lips as if they were magnetized. He didn’t look away as he rasped. “Right back at ya.” 

Finally, reluctantly, they pulled apart. Sylvie stepped back, rearranging her jacket and wetting her lips. Matt cleared his throat and smoothed down the hairs on his jaw.

“Do you want to tell him about us?” Sylvie asked.

Taking a minute before he remembered what they’d been talking about, Matt shook his head, pouting. “Not yet. He is going to be so smug.” He hesitated before admitting. “He’s been telling me to ask you out for weeks.”

“Sounds just like Foster.” Sylvie commented wryly. They shared a long-suffering look.

Matt went to put on his shoes. Sylvie hovered in the bathroom and then, coming to a decision, retrieved the condom pack and put it in her washbag, zipping it up carefully.

When she saw Matt watching her, she shrugged. “For a rainy day.”

He stood and took her hand as she came within reach, brow wrinkled. “You don’t think it’d be too soon to, uh, use them while we’re out here?”

She pulled his hand up to her lips and kissed the back of it, making him smile. “I think it’ll be the right time whenever it’s the right time. What we both want.”

“Did I say how happy I am that we’re doing this?” He asked sincerely.

“Holding hands?” She half-joked, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

“All of it.” He whispered. Closing her eyes against the sudden tears, she pressed her forehead against his shoulder. He held her close for so long they missed their reservation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French: my darlings/dears!  
> So this chapter turned out way more emotional than I was expecting. Vote 3 for next chapter has the option of Matt talking about Hallie’s death but if this doesn’t get voted for I will move it later, as I did set it up with Dalida’s song. At least, I intend to, this fic is really not conducive to planning.  
> About Sylvie’s knowledge of Matt’s past, in this fic I’m going for: next to nothing. She would have seen the posters about Matt’s mom killing her husband, but I don’t believe anyone at 51 would have told her anything extra. I mean, Dawson told her about pining after Matt when he was engaged to Hallie but didn’t mention that Hallie had died. 
> 
> https://www.tripadvisor.com/AttractionProductReview-g188644-d12863472-Hungry_Mary_s_Famous_Beer_and_Chocolate_Tour_Brussels-Brussels.html
> 
> Basing the studio apartment on this:  
> https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/38008896?location=Brussels%2C%20Belgium&adults=2&check_in=2020-06-09&check_out=2020-06-12&source_impression_id=p3_1589401188_ex20Se9Ynxmq%2F5fH&guests=1  
> Votes:  
> 1\. In mini-Europe a tourist mistakes…  
> a) Sylvie for Britney Spears  
> b) Matt for Chris Evans  
> c) Both of them for Anna Faris and Chris Pratt 
> 
> 2\. The rain starts…so they retreat to the apartment.  
> a) at the end of the mourning tour  
> b) during a mid-afternoon walk  
> c) just before dinner  
> [basically, how much of the day are they going to spend in a room together?]
> 
> 3\. Matt and Sylvie watch the movie…  
> a) Moulin Rogue  
> b) Amélie  
> c) Madeline  
> [Moulin Rouge: melodramatic love story featuring the death of a loved one; Amélie: being happy through others’ happiness; Madeline: cute story about an orphan]
> 
> I'll count the votes on: Monday 18th May around 10pm CEST and try to update on: Thursday 21st.  
> As always, thanks for reading.  
> :D  
> EDIT: 1b 2b 3a


	10. Day 9: Brussels, Belgium

Sylvie hummed and snuggled deeper into the warmth. There was an answering murmur from somewhere above her head. Her nose wrinkled, tickled. She turned her head so her cheek was against the warm skin and soft hairs. Time passed and more details wandered into her consciousness. Hmmm, nice, woody smell. A slight rise and fall under her, soft breathing sounds. It dawned on her that she was splayed across Matt’s chest, pressing her thigh against his hard-on.

This time, instead of panicking, she smiled sleepily. “Morning.”

The hard muscles under her cheek tensed, before relaxing. Matt kissed her hair. “Morning.”

“This is nice.” She sighed. His arm moved a little higher up her back in answer, breath lightly ruffling her hair. Very comfortable, Sylvie let her mind drift.

They had fallen asleep the night before with Sylvie as the big spoon again. By silent mutual agreement neither had brought up the condoms in Sylvie’s washbag nor the unfortunate incident the last time they’d shared a bed. Sylvie was flattered that Matt trusted her so readily and had gone to sleep happy.

She was still happy then, perfectly content to stay-

A loud knocking startled them. Sylvie sat up grumpily, looking at the door.

“Mademoiselle Brett! I come bearing gifts!” Valentin’s muffled voice came through.

Exchanging an irritated look with Matt, Sylvie half-fell out of bed and stumbled to the door.

“Hi.” She blinked as she saw Valentin standing in front of her.

“Good morning!” He greeted brightly, stepping closer. Sylvie moved back automatically and basically watched as he swanned in, placing a large plate on the breakfast nook.

“Belgian waffles!” Valentin explained as he swept off the dishcloth covering the plate. Sure enough, there were a dozen golden waffles giving off a heavenly smell.

Feeling marginally more forgiving at the sight, Sylvie thanked him. Matt wandered over, hiding a yawn behind his hand. Valentin looked between them.

“Ah, apologies if I woke you! I must go to the office soon, so I just wanted to drop these off first.”

He was wearing office clothes, now that Sylvie was paying attention. She waved off his apology. “No, this is amazing. Thank you.”

“Thanks, Valentin.” Matt added, eyes looking more alert.

He left them and Sylvie pretended not to notice Matt adjusting himself under his sleep pants. First things first: waffles.

Tucking in, they slowly woke up with the help of the waffles and coffee. They had some time before the tour so had decided to visit Mini-Europe – a tourist attraction a little way out of the city. With this in mind, they dressed quickly, Sylvie double-checking her umbrella was in her bag, and they left the apartment.

…

Mini-Europe was exactly what it sounded like: a large park with ‘zones’ for different European countries which contained miniatures of the main monuments. There was even a specific soundscape to each area: mandolins for Venice, the chimes of Big Ben for London and cheers from a bullfight in Spain. Both of them were impressed by the likeness of the mini-structures – as far as they could tell anyway – Matt in particular appreciating how they’d been built.

As it was relatively early in the day, there weren’t too many people, meaning the happy couple could stroll around, hand in hand. Despite the mild temperature, Matt was just in a T-shirt and jeans, his biceps easily visible and blond hair sparking lighter in the occasional bursts of sun through the clouds. It was a wonder that Sylvie could focus on anything other than him.

They were hanging around the Szechenyi Baths from Budapest when it happened.

Sylvie’s attention was called away from examining the spiral in the centre of the pool by a cry from a few metres away.

“ _C’est pas possible_!”

Sylvie frowned and turned to see an excited woman, pointing at her.

“ _Capitaine America_!” The woman exclaimed to the people with her. Understanding began to crest in Sylvie’s mind as the woman rushed over. Sylvie swung her head around to warn Matt but it was too late.

“Hello!” The woman greeted Matt, whose eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Er… hello?” He said back, glancing at Sylvie for help. She grimaced, shoulders shrugging.

“I love your _filmes_!” The woman announced, eyes bright.

Now realising the situation, Matt opened his mouth to correct her but by then her friends had caught up and threw their compliments and admiration into the mix.

Sylvie stepped back and got out her phone, thoroughly enjoying the increasingly overwhelmed expression on Matt’s face.

“Uh, thank you all but I’m not-” He tried.

The women gathered around him. “Can we take a photo?”

Matt hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with not correcting the false assumption, but the earnestness apparently won him over because he kind of nodded. “Well, I guess that uh, that would be okay?”

He shot another look at Sylvie and his brows furrowed as he saw her pointing her phone at the scene. She waved gaily and he mouthed something undoubtedly rude before he was required to smile at one of the fan’s cameras. Sylvie took some snaps, amusing herself by imagining how everyone at 51 would have a field day with the story. 

“Thank you!” The first woman gushed, kissing Matt on the cheek. Blushing, Matt mumbled something Sylvie couldn’t make out.

Matt bore the farewells with an awkward posture and eyed the retreating group warily.

Once he was finally free, he all but marched over to Sylvie.

“Thanks for the assist.” He fired off sarcastically.

“Oh, you were doing fine on your own.” Sylvie paused dramatically. “Cap.”

Matt snorted before his eyes snagged on her phone. She put it away hastily, affecting such an exaggerated innocent look that he laughed.

“You’re going to tell everyone about this, aren’t you?” He asked with a resigned air.

“Yep.” She confirmed remorselessly.

Huffing, he put an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, before I’m mistaken for anyone else.” 

…

The chocolate and beer tour started at Chocopolis: a chocolate shop a few streets away from the Grand Place. Matt did not make fun of Sylvie’s face when she saw it, though he was tempted. Very tempted. They were greeted by Prince: a friendly person with dark, delicate features and wearing a dapper jacket and pants.

“Hi, I’m Prince. You must be Matt and Sylvie?” The three of them shook hands.

“My preferred pronouns are ‘they’ and ‘their’, but you can just call me Prince if you’re unsure.”

Matt and Sylvie nodded in understanding and they greeted the other members of the group. Everyone seemed nice, reassuring Sylvie’s worry about a repeat occurrence of the poor guide being upstaged by a tourist.

Prince took them to a number of chocolate shops around the city centre, explaining some of the city’s history, as well as some of their experiences, along the way. They were very knowledgeable and answered every question with confidence and flair.

Sylvie was very happy, chatting to Prince and some of the others are the merits of each type of chocolate. Matt was content to listen, being more of a savoury foods kind of guy, and memorise which types were Sylvie’s favourites.

After that, they went to what seemed like a dozen of small bars and taverns: tasting dozens of beers. All of the beers were brewed in Belgium and were all different – according to Matt. Sylvie had just about as much interest in beer as Matt did in wine; though after a few she did start to notice subtle differences in taste and mouthfeel.

“That’s not a real word.” Sylvie murmured to Matt. He smirked and nudged her foot with his. Although they also tried some meat and cheese platters as part of the tour, both Matt and Sylvie were careful not to drink too much. Some of the other members of the group stayed on and kept drinking after the tour ended. Mindful of Valentin’s offer to cook them lunch, Matt and Sylvie reluctantly turned down the offer to stay.

Thanking and tipping Prince profusely, Matt and Sylvie said goodbye and departed.

…

Taking advantage of the holding weather, they decided to walk back to the apartment. Matt was beginning to regret not bringing a jacket and so set off in a fast walk that Sylvie struggled to keep up with. The sky began to darken and rumble ominously. They picked up the pace even more. Then the heavens opened.

The rains were heavy, pounding down on them and buzzing loudly all around. Yelping, Sylvie quickly dug out the umbrella from her bag. She snapped it open hurriedly, almost taking Matt’s eye out as he tried to duck underneath. Together they managed to huddle beneath it and power walk down the street.

Gusts of wind pulled the fabric of the umbrella upwards. Sylvie gave a forlorn cry as it was completely contorted out of shape. Huffing, Matt took the umbrella and collapsed it as much as it would go. Tucking it under one arm he grabbed Sylvie’s hand and they ran the last stretch to the apartment.

Ducking into the hall, they hurried up the steps: shivering and wet through. Teeth chattering, Matt unlocked the door and they piled in. Sylvie dumped her bag and jacket by the breakfast bar.

“Dibs on the shower!” Sylvie declared, fast-walking over to the bathroom.

“Hey! No fair!” Matt protested as he finished toeing off his shoes. He leapt over and managed to draw level with Sylvie. The pair started jostling playfully for the bathroom door, elbows flying.

In a dirty move, Matt shook his wet hair close to Sylvie’s face, making her splutter and protest. Eyes shining, Matt wrapped his arms around Sylvie and lifted her up. She laughed and squirmed, whacking her arms backwards to try and dislodge his hold. With a dramatic cry, Matt stumbled backwards and guided them onto the bed. Sylvie oofed before giggling and turning in his arms.

She looked down at him, lips stretched wide. The damp slick against her skin and water dripping from her hair down the back of her top faded to the back of her consciousness.

Matt’s warmth radiated through the damp and through their clothes, his gaze heated.

Leaning down, Sylvie kissed him, nibbling at his lips. His hands roamed across her back and ass, making her moan and grind-

The banging of a door locked their limbs and forced her head up.

“Valentin?” Matt questioned softly. Sylvie pressed a finger against his lips as she listened.

“I think he was going inside his-” her words were interrupted by a squeak as his tongue swiped her finger.

He shrugged, unrepentant in the face of her mild shock, and she decided that she loved a devil may care expression on him. Reluctantly, she reminded him.

“It’s close to lunchtime.” 

The dampness of her clothes and hair caught up with her and she shivered.

“Go on.” He twitched his head in the direction of the bathroom.

Carefully, she climbed off him and turned towards the door. She paused. “Our hotel in Amsterdam, it’s got a double bed?”

He sat up. “I think so.”

Sylvie smiled slyly. “And it’ll come with a ‘do not disturb’ sign, right?”

“Right.” He replied with a wide grin. 

…

They showered and changed into fresh clothes, gratefully accepting Valentin’s offer to throw the wet clothes into his washer.

“I was doing my own anyway.” He waved off their thanks before clapping his hands. “Now, for lunch!”

They all sat down around Valentin’s small dining table which boasted a pot of mussels and a plate of golden fries. The mussels were soft and carried the flavour of white wine and cream. Valentin explained that while there were many different variations, he’d found that _Moules à la crème_ , was often the version that visitors preferred.

Although she adored fish, Sylvie didn’t generally like other seafood. The mussels were well cooked though and she had enough experience to be able to extract them from the shells without embarrassing herself. Anyway, Matt seemed to really like them so she didn’t feel bad about feigning her own enjoyment.

The fries on the other hand, were perfect: soft on the inside and crunchy on the outside. Sylvie had to stop herself from demolishing the whole pile. At Matt’s query, Valentin happily launched into a detailed description of the Belgian way to prepare them.

“They are unmatched in all the world! It is known.”

Matt laughingly agreed and told Valentin about their morning, strategically leaving out the case of mistaken identity. Sylvie toyed with the idea of bringing it up but instead decided to leave it for when they were back stateside. Lull the man into a false sense of security and then strike.

While everyone was helping to clear away, Sylvie sneezed.

“The heating is off but I don’t believe this storm will last into tomorrow. Do let me know if you want me to turn it on.” Valentin offered.

It wasn’t cold exactly, but the chill from their time in the rain was taking its time to fade. Exchanging a glance with Matt, Sylvie deferred. “Don’t worry, we should be fine.”

They returned to the studio and changed into comfy clothes. Sylvie had an extra blanket from the closet around her shoulders, Matt was wrapped up in the throw usually on the end of the bed.

They spent a pleasant afternoon reading and cuddling on the bed. Acknowledging the threat of a good-natured Valentin knocking to provide some other kindness, they kept any touches affectionate and above the belt.

“It’s nice just to laze around sometimes.” Sylvie commented with a happy sigh. Matt hummed and kept on rubbing her shoulder lazily.

She looked up at him, trailing fingers across his cheek. “So is this officially a beard yet?”

The hairs were definitely too long to be stubble, but were staying close to the skin. Almost unconsciously, Sylvie stroked against the grain, making them stick up briefly.

Amused by the attention, Matt shrugged. “I guess so, it’s been over a week.” He thought for a moment. “I think this is the longest I’ve ever had it in twenty years.”

“I like it. Don’t get me wrong, I like clean-shaven Matt too, but this is a nice change.” Sylvie had to close her mouth to stop her gushing. She wasn’t sure how he’d react to her idea that he’d sorely needed the break from his heavy responsibilities. 

Matt laughed. “Good to know.”

…

When dinnertime rolled around, they checked out some local take away restaurants. Matt suggested they try a vegetarian place.

“Because I need some vegetables today.” He explained and Sylvie nodded approvingly.

Both of them had sneezed a few times, so Sylvie made some hot tea while Matt ran down to collect the food at the front door. They ate at the breakfast nook, sipping on the tea in between bites. Matt was cautiously optimistic that they’d evaded illness when both of them managed to get through the whole meal without any more symptoms. Sylvie placed the back of her hand on his forehead.

“You feel fine to me.”

He did the same. “You too.”

“Is it weird that I miss Paris already?” Sylvie mused after they’d finished and moved back to the bed.

“No.” He answered seriously, opening up his arms and cocooning her in his throw.

“Well, it’s still raining. Why don’t we watch a movie set in Paris?”

“Sure.” He agreed easily.

Scrolling through the options on her streaming app on her phone, Sylvie suggested. “ _Amélie_? It’s about a Parisian woman who helps people and falls in love.”

“Sounds interesting.” Matt commented neutrally, though Sylvie heard from his tone that it wasn’t really to his taste. She went back to the list.

“Oh! We have to!” Sylvie exclaimed a moment later. Her head shot up, eyes wide and shining.

Matt frowned and dutifully looked at the phone screen, reading the description.

“ _Moulin Rogue_. Exclamation mark.” He read out loud, obviously not recognizing it.

“It’s one of my favourite movies!” Sylvie exclaimed. “I must have watched it a thousand times as a teenager. Me and my friends knew all the songs, oh can we watch it?”

Lips curling up at her enthusiasm, Matt shrugged. “Sure, why not?” 

Matt watched with interest as Sylvie synched up her phone with the television. Whilst he did know some technological tricks, Bluetooth and Wi-Fi things were often beyond him. Sylvie was tempted to tease him but remembered his off-hand comment about his age during their hangovers.

Filing away the topic for another time, Sylvie started the movie.

 _Moulin Rouge!_ was the story of a young writer Cristian who meets the performers at the Moulin Rouge theatre in the early twentieth century. Through hijinks and romantic encounters, he falls in love with Satine, the lead performer, who is at first jaded but then learns to love through Cristian’s earnest affection. 

The movie was fun nonsense: heavily stylised and energetic, with fast cuts, upbeat music and exaggerated performances adding to the surreal quality. It was also a melodrama and featured several slightly questionable circumstances which existed purely to test the lovers’ resolve and put them through the ringer.

It was just as Sylvie remembered and her crossed legs bounced along to the bangers, shoulders jostling Matt where they were both sitting against the bed’s headboard. As it was a juke-box musical, Matt knew most of the songs; though he refused to sing along on principal, he did get into it as well.

Then they got to the scene which made Sylvie cry. Every time. Everyone had just finished the triumphant, love-conquers-all song and then bam! Satine starts wheezing and collapses to the ground in Christian’s arms.

The music faded and only harsh breathing could be heard on screen. Then Cristian started sobbing. Sylvie was preoccupied with trying not to openly cry so was taken aback when Matt moved.

“One sec.” Matt muttered, untangling himself from the mess of blankets and throws. 

As he staggered to the bathroom, Sylvie asked. “Should I stop it?”

“No, it’s okay. Keep it going.”

Despite the distracted placation, Sylvie paused the movie. She twisted her lip and dabbed her eyes as she waited for him to come back. The scene always got to her no matter how many times she saw it: it seemed so cruel, to have a hard-won happiness snatched away. A sinking feeling swept through her. Without knowing details, her gut told her that Matt had experienced that first hand. Maybe he was thinking about losing Louie? Why hadn’t she considered his past before begging him to watch it?

After an agonising wait, he came out again.

“You okay?” She asked before kicking herself at the stupid question.

Matt sat down stiffly and grunted. Sylvie’s worry increased as he took a long moment to answer, his red eyes not encouraging.

“It’s fine.” He protested, shoulders shooting up to his ears.

“It’s not.” Sylvie countered firmly. Matt’s jaw ticked. She turned the movie off.

“Sylvie-” Matt began to protest.

“Matt.”

He shut his mouth and turned to face straight ahead.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He ground out after a beat, staring hard at the wall.

“I’m not asking you to.” She replied mildly, even though she did feel it would be good for him.

“I already dumped my messed up childhood on you yesterday.” He continued, as if she hadn’t spoken.

Recognizing he was lost in his own head, Sylvie left a space, hoping he’d work through whatever was going on. Finally, he looked at her, blinking a few times as if he’d just remembered she was there. 

Fighting the urge to touch him, she reassured him. “I’m here, either way.”

So he told her about Hallie: about feeling like he and his soulmate could build a life together, about fighting through flames and desperately trying to revive her in the ambulance only to be told that she’d never had a chance. About being left alone in a house he’d built for a life he’d never live. 

At some point they shifted so he was laying against her, her soothing hands running over his head and neck.

“How does it end? The movie?” Matt asked quietly, a long while later.

Sylvie had to think for a moment, before answering. “He finishes writing their story. It takes him a long time, but he closes the book.” 

Matt didn’t reply in words, only nuzzling in closer to her. She held him tightly with one arm, the other fumbling with tissues for the both of them.

“I’m here.” She whispered into his hair and held him until they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we actually haven’t run out of tragic backstory but that’s all I’m planning on including. From here it will be all fluff, maybe a few rocky parts but nothing this angsty. Pinky swear.
> 
> Votes:  
> 1\. Who gets a cold?  
> a) Matt  
> b) Sylvie  
> c) both of them
> 
> 2\. In Bruges, they bump into…  
> a) Kevin and Raymond  
> b) Hoshi and Travis  
> c) Sasha and Tatiana
> 
> 3\. Sylvie’s parents call…  
> a) when she’s in the shower  
> b) when she and Matt are sleeping  
> c) when they’re in a brewery
> 
> I will count the votes on Sunday 24th May around 10am CEST. I will try to update on Wednesday 27th.  
> Thanks for reading!  
> :D
> 
> EDIT: 1c [votes were a:6 b:6 c:5, as its so close I'm just going to have them both sick]  
> 2a  
> 3a


	11. Day 10: Bruges, Belgium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late, haven't been sleeping well lately for a number of reasons.  
> Really want to do this fic justice though so managed to get the chapter done.  
> As always unbeta'd and this time completed in a bit of a haze so please let me know if you spot any errors.  
> Thanks for reading  
> :D

“A-CHOO!”

“Oh dear,” Sylvie felt Matt’s forehead, “you’ve got a temperature.”

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, blowing his nose, “just need some cold medicine.”

Running her eyes over his pinched expression, she asked worriedly. “Are you sure you still want to go to Bruges?”

“It’s not like I’ve never had a cold before.” He shrugged, turning to toss the tissue in the kitchen trash can.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick.” Sylvie mused, voice cracking a little at the end.

Matt blinked and his eyes narrowed as he studied _her_ face in more detail. “Are _you_ sure you want to go?”

Sylvie frowned. “I’m fine.” She croaked, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

Matt hummed with clear disbelief but he didn’t ask again. Instead, he suggested. “Let’s see if there’s any cold medicine in the first aid kit.”

He went to rummage through his suitcase for the kit he’d packed as Sylvie made some tea. She tried to cover her coughing but Matt tutted, calling. “I heard that!”

He found a box of cold medicine sachets and stole some of the boiling water from the kettle to mix with the medicine. Sylvie huffed as she saw there wasn’t enough water left for a full cup of tea. 

“This is better.” Matt handed her a steaming mug. “Trust me.”

Sylvie grumbled a little under her breath but still drank up. They ate cereal and yogurt in companionable silence as Matt kept an ear out for movement in the hall.

Twenty minutes later, Sylvie sat up. She cleared her throat and blinked a few times. “Wow, that stuff is really good.”

Matt smiled. “Never let me down before.” He didn’t sound bunged up anymore and stood up with his normal enthusiasm. “I’ll bring a few sachets box so we can have some at lunch.”

Sylvie slipped her travel tissues into her handbag as well as her backup umbrella. The weather forecast promised a nice day, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

…

“I really like travelling by train.” Sylvie declared once they were well underway, wiggling in her seat a little. Matt followed her gaze out of the window, eyes dipping and falling over the buildings they were passing.

“It’s calming.” She went on. Matt hummed in agreement.

Sylvie sighed. “I just woke up but I still want to nap.”

“You’re on holiday.” Matt countered softly. “And we are ill. I say go for it.”

Pursing her lips, Sylvie tilted her head to look at him. “What’s been your favourite part so far?”

“Paris.” He accepted her change of topic easily, answered immediately. 

She smirked a little, nudging him with her foot. “Which part specifically?”

“All of it. The sights, the tour, that dinner…” He trailed off, eyebrow raised meaningfully.

Sylvie’s smile turned genuine.

“You?” He asked.

She linked her fingers through his. “I mean obviously the part where we got our act together was pretty special.”

“But the Loire Valley was great too. Someday I hope to go back to that vineyard and properly appreciate their wine collection.”

“If they’ll let you back in.” Matt joked. 

Sylvie waved a hand. “They must see hundreds of people. If we just wait a few years, they wouldn’t recognise us.”

“I’m coming too, am I?” Matt asked, though by his tone it was obvious he was teasing.

She leaned over and kissed him briefly on the lips. “Yes.”

He pretended to concede. “Alright, as long as I get to see you drunk.”

“No fair, I should get to enjoy the Drunk-Matt experience at least once when I’m sober enough to fully appreciate it.”

Matt just laughed and shook his head. Sylvie narrowed her eyes. “I’ll set Foster on you, just you wait.”

Matt held his hands up in surrender. 

…

The journey took about an hour, so they made it to the Bruges train station by mid-morning. Bruges was a small medieval town built on a canal system, similar to Venice. Up to the 15th century, it had been one of the most important and wealthy trading centres in Northern Europe. Various factors had caused its decline over the following centuries until a tourist boom in the 19th century put it back on the map. Although suffering occupation in both world wars, the town had fortunately escaped major damage to its structures, so it was one of the most well-preserved medieval towns in Europe. 

Matt and Sylvie left the station and walked into the centre, Sylvie taking snaps of the river as they crossed it and the tower of the main church, the Church of Our Lady, which loomed large over the town. Matt was in charge of orientation, though even he hardly needed to concentrate much on the route as it was pretty much a straight shot from the station to the main square. The cobbled streets and rows of small, bricked houses coupled with the warm sun and fresh air created picturesque feel to the place.

Matt took Sylvie’s free hand and she smiled at him, putting her phone away and decreasing the distance between them as they walked.

The Markt, the main square in the centre of the town, was smaller than the square in Brussels but felt no more important. The borders were lined with shops and houses boasting the same style of architecture and a line of flags flanking the central statue lent a sense of grandeur. A healthy amount of tourists were milling around; taking photos, consulting guidebooks and relaxing on the benches dotted throughout the square.

Along with the houses, the square was also home to the famous bell tower.

The Belfry of Bruges was tall and imposing, it’s flat peak and pale stone reminiscent of an ancient battlement. Entry to the stairs which led to the top was free so there was a long queue, it moved relatively quickly though and Matt and Sylvie had never had a problem with entertaining themselves. On this occasion, they people-watched and came up with elaborate backstories for some of the more interesting tourists they saw.

They walked up the hundreds of steps to get to the top, pausing to let people descend and wipe their brows. It wasn’t a gentle climb, especially the last fifty or so steps, but they preserved and finally came out to the gusty air of the top. Ignoring the dizzying sight of the square, Matt looked out over the town: the sunlight was lighting up the trees to a vivid green, the orange-rooved houses adding a cheerful brightness to the beautiful day. He could see occasional glimpses of the river in between the buildings and the Church of Our Lady stood tall and proud amongst it all.

With only feigned reluctance, Matt let Sylvie pull him into her photos, squeezing together in the small space. The wind was stronger up there, so the extra warmth didn’t hurt either.

Sylvie hummed contemplatively as she pulled away from kissing his cheek and he frowned slightly.

“What?”

“Just wondering if this,” she stroked just above his jawline, “is a beard yet.”

Matt touched the other side of his face, trying to remember what it had looked like in the mirror that morning. He’d been too preoccupied with his cold to pay much attention.

“It’s been more than a week. Unless I’m super-unmanly it should be a short beard.”

“Hey, let’s not get into a discussion of ‘what constitutes a man’, shall we? You’re plenty masculine for me.”

Hugging her closer to let another couple squeeze past, Matt hummed. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She confirmed, with another kiss. His cheek shifted under her lips as he smiled. 

…

Sylvie was glad they’d decided against booking a guided tour as even with the cold medicine, she was still feeling run down and not really up for listening attentively to lots of information. They’d not visited the brewery as neither of them felt like drinking even a light beer. Also they’d already tried many of the beers on the tour so didn’t deem it a massive loss.

The Church of Our Lady with its towering spire was breath-taking up close, was a definite on their list though. It was built with the same brick as the Belfry but so much broader and taller. The inside was beautiful, with impossibly high-arched ceilings, stained glass windows and intricate paintings placed around the space.

In small fenced off areas there were also tombs of past royalty, black coffins topped with gold-platted statues resting serenely. As with the other holy places they’d visited, there was a hushed atmosphere: low voices and the echoing sounds of slow footsteps curling around them.

Once they’d seen their fill, they ducked into the public bathrooms to freshen up.

A little later, Sylvie was outside the church, waiting for Matt to return from the bathroom when a familiar face popped into her field of vision.

“Oh! Hello.” Sylvie greeted, surprise blanking her mind as to his name.

The ginger-haired man glanced her way, before recognition turned his attention back to her.

“Hello, you are from the Paris tour.” 

“Yes!” She confirmed, doing an awkward cutesy as she said her name. “Sylvie.” 

“Kevin.” He replied, eyebrow ever so slightly raised.

“Captain Holt!” Matt called as he came up, face sunny. It was then that Sylvie even saw Kevin’s husband behind him.

The police Captain inclined his head, lip twitching minutely as he greeted. “Captain Casey.”

They chatted about Bruges, the pair’s in-depth knowledge of European history almost overwhelming Sylvie and Matt. Thankfully, it was around lunchtime and when Sylvie brought up going to a place to eat, Raymond suggested they go together. 

Kevin did not look at all excited at the prospect, but seemed pleased that Raymond was.

“We do not often meet other such polite American travellers.” Raymond explained.

“Some of my colleagues at the university are very well-spoken.” Kevin protested.

“They sure do like speaking.” Raymond quipped lowly and Kevin seemed to concede the point. Sylvie exchanged a glance with Matt and was relieved that he didn’t understand either.

They chose a café in the Markt, Matt ordering some hot water in order to take some more medicine. 

Kevin watched with interest as Sylvie emptied the sachet into the hot water.

“Oh, we both got caught in the rain yesterday.” Sylvie explained as she handed the cup to Matt. He stirred the concoction and sniffed a little noisily. Kevin shifted his chair back an inch, looking wary.

Raymond didn’t seem bothered, however, instead starting a conversation about the mundanities of civil service.

“To be honest, the hardest part of my day is getting in the elevator.” Raymond shared.

“Oh?” Matt asked.

“Yes, did you know that city elevators are only ready-load tested every five years?”

“Raymond. They’re perfectly safe.” Kevin warned, looking close to rolling his eyes.

“So they say.” Raymond replied, eyes narrowed.

“In all my years as a firefighter, we’ve never had any elevator related deaths.” Matt tried to reassure him. “Worse call was when a man tried to steal a safe and then climbed out into the shaft when security stopped it.”

“I haven’t heard this one.” Sylvie lent in and seeing interest from everyone, Matt told the story of the hapless employee trying so unsuccessfully to steal from his sister.

“You’re missing out like fifty times your life was in mortal danger, aren’t you?” Sylvie teased, placing a hand on his knee under the table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He countered with a silly smile on his face, though he covered her hand with his and squeezed gently.

After a beat of mutual warmth, Sylvie announced to Kevin and Raymond.

“This one gets shot, bandages his own arm and then tells everyone he’s fine.” 

“Sounds familiar.” Kevin commented drily, side eyeing Raymond, who carefully did not look at him.

They passed a pleasant time and split the bill evenly when it came to pay.

As they stood to leave, Sylvie got head rush.

“You good?” Matt asked, rubbing Sylvie’s arm. Breathing in deeply, she smiled.

“Yeah, just a little tired.” Straightening, she asserted. “I still want to go to the Gruuthusemuseum.”

“We saw it this morning.” Kevin explained. “It was very informative and well-organised.”

Sylvie took that as ecstatic praise from the man. They parted ways amicably, Matt and Sylvie heading to the museum, Kevin and Raymond on their next stop.

Sylvie interlinked her fingers with Matt’s and mused out loud. “I wonder if we’ll run into them again in Amsterdam.”

“Oh, I asked Raymond on the way to lunch and they’re going back to France today. This was just a day trip.” He replied.

Sylvie was disappointed, as they were great company, though she did breathe a small sigh of relief for all the tour guides in the city.

“I can’t get over how you can just drop into other countries so quickly here. Going on a day trip to another country just seems like magic.”

“Well, everything is just smaller here.” Matt commented, looking at a lace shop with white frills on the windows. “And cuter.”

“You get quaint towns back home too.” Sylvie countered. “You should see Fowlerton sometime.”

“If only I knew someone who could take me there.” Matt joked, swinging their linked hands a little.

Sylvie laughed.

The Gruuthusemuseum contained a wide number of artefacts from the founding of Bruges as a settlement up until the 1800s; they were arranged into the three main eras of the town’s history. Sylvie liked the examples of 19th century embroidery, taking in all the intricate details and marvelling at how many hours it must have taken to produce such fine patterns and designs.

As per usual, they didn’t take too long to walk around the exhibits. When they got out, the sky had clouded over somewhat though the temperature was still high. Having officially crossed all their must-see locations off the list and drooping a little, they decided to head back.

“We might need to rely on your phone till we get back.” Sylvie murmured, frowning at the screen of hers. “Mine is almost out of battery.”

Matt nodded in agreement so Sylvie turned hers off and they boarded the train back to Brussels.

…

When they got back, Sylvie plugged in her cell and then jumped in the shower while Matt researched some nearby restaurants they could have dinner at later.

Music started playing. Matt frowned. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from Sylvie’s cell. He glanced at the bathroom door. She’d only just started running the water in the shower, he didn’t want to interrupt her unnecessarily. 

If it was important. They’d leave a message and she could call them back. The phone went silent and he went back to his research.

About two reviews later, the cell rang again. _Must be urgent_ , he thought, walking over to the bedside table where the phone was charging. The screen told him that it was Sylvie’s mother. Matt glanced again in the direction of the bathroom. He could just explain that Sylvie was busy and would call her back – and he could relate any urgent information as soon as she the water stopped running.

Taking in a deep breath, he answered.

“Hi, Mrs. Brett? Sylvie’s in the bathroom right now. Can she call you back?”

“Oh, hello. Thank goodness I got through!” Came a relieved cry. “When I first rang there wasn’t a ringtone, Jim thought maybe that I needed to change area codes because she was in a different country and we both got helplessly confused trying to find the right one. Then we researched and found out you don’t have to change the number but just now she didn’t answer…” Mrs Brett explained in a flutter.

“Oh well...” Matt began, not sure how to appropriately respond.

“Sorry but I didn’t catch your name…?” Mrs. Brett asked.

“Uh, sorry, I’m Matt. Sylvie and I work together at 51.”

“Huh, I don’t think I remember a Matt, but then you all seem to call each other by your surnames.”

There was a beat before Matt realized the implied question. “Uh, it’s Casey.”

“Oh, Casey!” She exclaimed happily.

Matt also heard his name repeated by another voice

“We’ve heard all about you. You’re the captain, right?”

“Yes, that’s true.” Matt replied, a little taken aback that she knew that and by her pleased tone.

“You’re on truck. The one with the ladders?” She went on.

“Right on the money.” Matt praised, having to sit down, nerves beginning to build as he realized he was now having a conversation with his girlfriend’s mother.

“Sylvie’s never invited us up to her work but we’ve heard all about it.” Mrs. Brett explained. The other voice, likely Jim, said something Matt couldn’t hear.

A moment later, Mrs. Brett asked. “Wait, we thought that Sylvie was on vacation…”

“Yes. We’re in Belgium now, just got back from Bruges.”

“Uhuh, what’s that like?” She asked.

So Matt described the town and ended up talking about their previous stops as well. He was so involved in the conversation that he jumped when the bathroom door opened and Sylvie came out, wrapped in a towel, hair dripping.

“Oh, Sylvie’s out. I’ll put her on.” He stood awkwardly, not quite looking at Sylvie’s confused expression.

“Lovely talking to you Matt.” Mrs. Brett chirped.

“You too, Mrs. Brett.”

Sylvie’s eyes widened as she heard that and Matt’s stomach twisted.

“Oh, Matt, please call me Barb.” Mrs. Brett – Barb – corrected him.

“Okay Barb, here’s Sylvie.” He held the phone out and Sylvie took it, eyebrows raised.

Matt shrugged.

“Hey mom!” Sylvie greeted warmly. “How are you guys?”

Matt took his turn in the bathroom and tried not to think about the unexpected turn of events.

…

They went to dinner at a low key restaurant and both opted for a quick, simple meal. Sylvie understood Matt’s reasons for answering her phone and was thankful he’d managed to calm down her worried parents.

She half-laughed. “I just can’t believe you’ve met my parents.”

“Over the phone.” Matt tempered, then looked closer at her. “That’s okay, right?”

“Of course! No, I do want you to meet them, I just didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

“According to your mom, you’ve already told them a little about me.”

Sylvie took a sip of water, shoulders creeping up a little. Matt tried unsuccessfully to smother his grin at her pinkening cheeks.

“Only the good things.” She admitted finally.

“Well, they sound like lovely people.” Matt commented, his gaze softening as he went on. “They must be pretty special to have raised you.” 

Now Sylvie really was blushing.

By the time they returned to the apartment, their symptoms were creeping back on them, as well as tiredness.

As they were waiting for the kettle to boil, Sylvie leaned against the counter and groaned.

“Ugh, I feel gross.”

“Sylvie, I don’t think you could ever be classified as ‘gross’.” Matt countered as he laid an arm on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

“Not even covered in projectile vomit?” She asked, looking up at him.

He tilted his head in consideration and she whacked at him playfully.

“Of course not, babe.” He replied. Then froze, a cloud gathering over his face. Sylvie’s muscles tensed in response but the moment passed quickly and he relaxed again.

The water was ready, so Sylvie poured them both a cup of water and Matt mixed in the powder.

“This really is great stuff.” She praised as they pottered around getting ready for bed.

Matt hummed in agreement and neither of them felt the need for more conversation after that. Instead they finished the drink, curled up together on the bed and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep on saying that there’ll be no more angst but…this is fairly light though. Clues as to what it is in the voting options. Also I have done no research into popular cold medicines in USA, most people in Europe use the dissolvable powder stuff so, meh. If it super bothers you let me know and I’ll change it.
> 
> Votes:  
> 1\. Sylvie decides her pet names for Matt… [one for fun and one for everyday]  
> a) Hot Stuff and Honey  
> b) Sassypants and mon nounours [my teddy bear]: ‘noo’ for short  
> c) Blondie and Love
> 
> 2\. Matt decides his pet names for Sylvie… [one for fun, one for everyday]  
> a) Gorgeous and Vie [from ‘La Vie en Rose’]  
> b) Sunshine and liefe [‘dear’ in Dutch, sounds like ‘leaf-uh’]  
> c) Blondie and Honey  
> Thanks to fosterfamily3 for the suggestions.
> 
> 3\. Matt and Sylvie spend their first afternoon in Amsterdam…  
> a) walking around  
> b) visiting a museum  
> c) in their hotel room *winky face*
> 
> I will count votes on Monday 1st June around 10am CEST and hope to update on Thursday 4th June.  
> Thanks for reading.  
> :D


	12. Day 11: Amsterdam, Netherlands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I don’t know what to say about the lateness. Motivation to write is thin on the ground right now, but writing this does make me happier, so there's that. Unbeta'd and finished in the middle of the night so, let me know if you spot anything.  
> Just four chapters left so hoping to finish by end of June/early July. Thank you SO much for everyone reading, voting and commenting. I really do appreciate it.

They left the apartment in Brussels with as little fanfare as Valentin would allow: he’d cooked waffles for breakfast again and also given them a few small boxes of chocolates to take back to their family and friends.

“It’s only fair that they should be able to enjoy the best chocolate in the world!” He’d declared, mostly seriously.

Whilst Matt had kept him talking on the landing outside, Sylvie had snuck back into the apartment to leave an extra tip and the pair had skedaddled before he could notice.

“Whatcha listening to?” Sylvie hooked her chin over Matt’s shoulder, having taken in her fill of the landscape racing past the train window. Matt tensed, and for a split second she thought he’d deflect, but then he held his phone out for her to see.

“ _La Vie en Rose_.” Sylvie read, eyes sparkling. “You’re listening to a French song.”

Matt shrugged, but couldn’t hide his pinkening cheeks. “I can be cultural.”

“Never said you couldn’t be.” She returned neutrally, even as her insides glowed. She pecked him on the cheek and then left him to it, settling in to research the last leg of their trip.

A little later, she looked up from her phone and notebook. Matt took his earphones out and gave her his full attention.

“So, I was looking at the list of things to do in and around the city.” Sylvie began, showing him what she’d favourite on the travel website.

“I mean obviously the Anne Frank museum is a must and I was hoping we could do a canal tour, they’re meant to be really good.”

“I agree with both of those…” Matt commented absently as he read down the list. “ExtraCold Ice Bar? Are they wearing snow boots?” He questioned, leaning back to give her the full eyebrow raise.

“It sounds kinda cool.” Sylvie defended, though looking at his expression weakened her voice a little.

He opened his mouth, doubtless to point out all the ‘against’ arguments, but on seeing her face, simply suggested. “Let’s put it down as a ‘maybe’.”

“This tour of surrounding towns sounds interesting.” He shifted closer to tap the link himself. Sylvie inhaled against her will, his familiar woody scent stirring the warmth inside her gut. Matt didn’t react beyond a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“Clog museum: a must-see. I completely agree.” He delivered dryly.

Sylvie huffed a laugh and pinched his arm. “Glad we’re on the same page. Remind me to buy some for Cruz and Otis.”

Matt chuckled and they talked a bit more about plans. Neither mentioned telling their friends and co-workers about their relationship, just enjoying being together.

…

As they exited Amsterdam Central station, the difference between Brussels and Amsterdam was stark. Whereas the Brussels streets were more or less the same as the Parisian or even American variety, Amsterdam had its own system.

Almost every street had tramlines in the centre of the road, with car lanes on the outer edges and sidewalks after them. The main streets also had bus lanes, making them exceedingly wide and seemingly perilous to cross.

The trams did go slow enough to stop for pedestrians, however, much to Sylvie’s relief but also confusion. It was somehow more anxiety-inducing for the tram to slow down to let you pass, rather than you waiting for it to go. With a big suitcase, it felt even worse. Matt wasn’t faring any better, taking both their carry-ons and his own suitcase whilst also trying to look at his phone and navigate. Though he didn’t say anything, he looked intimidated and increasingly stressed. Sylvie felt worry creeping up.

“Maybe we should get a taxi.” She suggested, looking around at all the hubbub.

“No, it’s really not that far.” Matt countered stubbornly, expression set in what Sylvie privately called his ‘door-kicking face’. “Plus, look at all this traffic, it’d probably take ages.”

Keeping her opinion that a native taxi driver would get them to their destination quicker and more safely than wandering around would, Sylvie held her chin up and followed resolutely behind.

They went over cute bridges and through leafy streets, dodging cyclists and other tourists.

Stopping on one corner, Matt undermined his determination by muttering not quite under his breath. “This is a nightmare.”

Sylvie was inclined to agree and was about to suggest a taxi again when Matt looked up and declared. “We’re here!”

His triumphant grin was almost enough to make up for the tension.

Needless to say it was welcome relief to slip into the hotel reception. Both of them were a little frazzled and loaded down with their baggage. The staff were friendly and checked them in with little ceremony or small talk. Something both travellers really appreciated.

The room was nice: just big enough for a double bed, dresser, two armchairs and a small closet. The colour scheme was lime green and pink, which ordinarily Sylvie would have frowned at, but just then she couldn’t care less about aesthetics. Once they’d both freshened up and unpacked a little, Sylvie sighed.

“We should go and explore I guess.” She folded her arms, looking past Matt at the view. There was a long pause and when her eyes found his again, her breath caught.

“Or…” He stretched out the word, ambling slowly but purposefully over to her.

“Or.” She rasped. He stopped mere inches away from her, head bent, their lips just inches apart.

Clearing her throat, she held up a finger. “Let me get my washbag.”

He opened his mouth but then closed it again, obviously remembering. Having retrieved what she’d been looking for, it was Sylvie’s turn to stalk up to Matt, shepherding him back to the bed.

…

Much later, they ventured out for dinner. Sylvie hadn’t really wanted to leave the room, but she’d felt Matt getting restless. He hadn’t said anything, but his bouncing leg and tapping fingers had been hard to ignore.

Absently, she wondered if he was even capable of taking it easy, having heard stories of the idiot trying to ‘walk off injuries’ and work through exhaustion. Hell, she’d seen it a few times herself, even off-duty, Matt would still turn up to construction gigs or Molly events despite being exhausted or in pain. The idea of Matt having a pyjama day seemed surreal.

Reaching up to flatten some tufts of hair he’d missed at the back of his head, she decided to accept the challenge: sometime soon, she would keep him in bed for a full day.

They didn’t talk much as they navigated the streets to the restaurant, but both of them were much more relaxed. Matt even hummed as they waited at a traffic light and Sylvie didn’t flinch when crossing the many, many lanes.

The restaurant had been recommended to them by the hotel receptionist. It was a casual dining restaurant, serving traditional Dutch cuisine. As it was a popular spot, they had to wait a few minutes to be seated, but the lively atmosphere and brightly decorations made up for that.

Their waitress offered them a shaky smile as they sat down.

“I am Ángela, pleased to have you here.”

“It’s good to be here.” Sylvie offered with a kind smile. Ángela returned the smile tentatively though her notebook was vibrating slightly as she haltingly recited the specials. Matt and Sylvie ordered as quickly as possible and breathed a sigh of relief when Ángela repeated their orders back to them flawlessly.

“I remember my first day as a waitress.” Sylvie commented as Ángela scurried away with their orders. “It was not pretty.”

“You drop anything?” Matt asked teasingly, rubbing her hand with his thumb. Sylvie faced him with an embarrassed smile.

“Maybe a few spoons. Hey, cutlery slides all over the place!” She defended.

Matt held up his free hand. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You’ve never worked in hospitality.” Sylvie nodded knowingly. “It shows.”

Matt laughed. “Yes I managed to escape the horrors of customer service, though I do get difficult clients from time to time.”

“You got any methods to deal with them?” Sylvie asked, resting her head on her palm, genuinely curious.

“Just one: appease, appease, appease.”

Sylvie giggled, entirely believing that the commanding Captain would wear kid gloves around civilians, even demanding or rude ones. 

They had been too distracted for lunch, so both of them were ravenous. By the time Sylvie had done her impressions of all of 51’s firefighters, and laughed merrily at Matt’s ‘chief voice’, they had demolished the complimentary bread and started to get impatient for the food. 

Ángela finally appeared, walking incredibly slowly while carrying their starters. Matt kind of regretted ordering soup as he watched Ángela’s eyes fixed on the bowl. 

As she set Sylvie’s dish down, the bowl tilted and a few drops of Matt’s soup splashed on the white table cloth. Matt and Sylvie jumped a little and the waitress righted the bowl.

“I am so sorry.” Ángela stammered, getting a stained cloth from her pouch and dabbing at the spillage, bowl in her other hand wobbling.

“It’s fine, it didn’t get me.” Matt tried to reassure her good-naturedly even as he eyed the bowl cautiously. 

Ángela finally pulled the cloth away from the table and looked down at the soup bowl. “I can get you another.”

“No need, it’s totally fine. I promise.” Matt insisted and red-faced, Ángela set the bowl down very carefully.

“It looks good.” Sylvie interjected awkwardly. Ángela nodded to them both, before turning away. 

She almost tripped whilst walking away and Matt and Sylvie tried not to let their winces show. The starters were good though, so there was that.

A few minutes later, Sylvie began.

“So, babe, I was thinking… What?” She asked as he grimaced.

“Uh, it’s noth…” His dismissal was interrupted by her eyebrow raise, however. He sighed instead. “Could we maybe not use ‘babe’? Or ‘baby’?” Taking in his awkward, hunched shoulders and darting eyes, Sylvie’s mind clicked and it all made sense. Bad memories. Or good ones that he didn’t want to mix.

“Of course.” She replied casually. “No problem.” She paused. “Do you have anything in mind?”

From the way he scratched his jaw, it was clear that he did. “I was thinking…you know that song earlier?”

Remembering the odd but pleasant discovery of Matt exploring different music, Sylvie nodded.

Matt explained, hands making awkward motions as he did so. “Maybe, if you like, I could call you ‘Vie’.”

“It means ‘life’ and lately I’ve been thinking about how much you’ve changed my life for the better, just by being you so... plus, I think it sounds, good, and it’s actually part of your name-”

“Oh honey, I love it.” Sylvie interrupted him, lips stretched wide. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. As she pulled back, she lamented semi-seriously. “Oh geez, now I have to think of something super romantic to call you.”

“No, I like ‘honey’,” he smiled a little bashfully.

“Okay, ‘honey’ it is…or ‘Hot stuff’, depending on how unfairly attractive you look at any given time.”

“’Hot Stuff’?” He repeated, tone a little strangled and lips slightly parted. “Is that a reference to me being a firefighter?”

“It’s a reference to you being as sexy as hell.” She hit back without missing a beat. He gulped.

“You got a problem with that?” She reached out with her foot and ran it up his leg. “Hot Stuff?” Her intense gaze, coupled with the under the table action forced heat to his face.

He rallied, however, clearing his throat and declaring archly. “That’s fine, Gorgeous, whatever you want.”

Fighting a blush herself, Sylvie bit her lower lip and threaded a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She kept her gaze to the side of him for a moment, feeling his eyes on her and wanting to teas-

The moment was broken by a startled cry behind her. Matt’s eyes widened but not in time to warn poor Sylvie, who jumped as liquid suddenly splashed down the back of her neck. Gasps came from a nearby table and there was a lull in conversation as they watched the incident unfold.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Ángela wailed, struggling to right the glasses on the drinks tray she was carrying. Sylvie craned her head over her shoulder, to make out what looked like white wine spreading down her back.

Matt jumped up and offered his napkin, which Sylvie took and began dabbing at the stain. Their poor waitress tried to help but was still holding the drinks tray which wobbled ominously.

“Ángela!” A voice barked and what looked like the restaurant manager stalked over. He apologised profusely to Sylvie, who was still drying the damp spots, jaw tight and brow furrowed. As much as she seemed annoyed though, her eyes never left the cringing waitress and Sylvie insisted that everything was fine and it was just an accident.

The manager beckoned the poor waitress away, near-hissing at her, Ángela hunched as small as she could get while still standing. Sylvie and Matt watched while trying not to be obvious about it and eventually, Ángela was sent away.

Another waiter came over to serve them for the rest of the meal. The atmosphere was a little subdued, Matt and Sylvie quiet even after conversation returned to normal in the room.

“Did…did she get fired?” Sylvie asked worriedly, once their new waiter had taken their main course dishes away.

“I hope not.” Matt frowned as he glanced around the restaurant, unable to see Ángela anywhere. They decided against desserts, wanting to rest after the eventful day. 

Just as they were leaving though, Matt spotted Ángela through the door of the kitchen. She looked downcast but was helping clear the dirty plates.

“Hope she gets a second chance.” Sylvie said when he told her.

“Come on.” Matt put an arm around her waist as they left. “You need a shower.” He gasped as she pinched his butt. “You are a menace, Vie.”

Sylvie laughed. “Oh Hot Stuff, you have no idea.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the sights in Amsterdam but it was very disorientating cycling and walking around. Occasionally pavements turn into cycle lanes so suddenly you’re in someone’s way and yeah, I guess if you live there you get the hang of it.  
> The waitress bit is based on my parent’s experience at a local restaurant: they’ve never seen that poor woman again so… likely she was fired. :[ This was a few years ago though so she’s probably fine now.
> 
> Votes:  
> 1\. Matt learns the Dutch phrase for:  
> a) “two beers, please.”  
> b) “I’m not a vegetarian.”  
> c) “I’m a firefighter.”
> 
> 2\. Matt and Sylvie have their first fight as a couple…  
> a) at the Anne Frank museum  
> b) on the canal tour  
> c) on the walking tour
> 
> 3\. They both apologise and make up by…  
> a) giving back rubs/foot massages  
> b) having a heart-to-heart  
> c) feeding each other chocolate  
> [couldn’t bear to have them angry at each other longer than an hour so…]
> 
> I will count the votes on Monday 8th June around 10pm CEST and will try to update Friday 12th.  
> Thank you so much for reading.  
> Stay safe out there.


	13. Day 12: Amsterdam

“How have you recovered already?”

Sylvie looked up from packing her clothes from the day before. She felt almost 100%, the medicine and a good night’s sleep doing wonders.

"When you grow up on a farm, you get used to working through all kinds of illnesses.”

When Matt merely looked confused, she smirked a little.

“Unlike you city slickers, we had real important chores to do. If the cows don’t get milked, then you won’t get milk.”

“Ha, ha,” he rasped on his way to the bathroom.

Despite the shadows under his eyes and slight paleness to his complexion, he looked adorable: bed head the worst she’d ever seen it, lips pouting, blonde strands in his beard glinting ever so slightly in the sunlight filtering in through the window. Sylvie stepped up and kissed him on the cheek as he went past.

He huffed, though he paused and his eyes were gentle on her face.

“I’ll mix up some more medicine.” She called as she stepped back, glancing back to see him wave a hand lazily in acknowledgement.

As they were drinking their medicine tea – despite feeling better Sylvie still had excess phlegm she wanted to get rid of – Sylvie asked.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in bed a little longer, honey?”

Matt raised his mug.

“I’ll be fine after some more of this.” His voice did sound stronger and he looked more awake, so Sylvie didn’t argue. She leaned into his side and he wrapped his free arm around her.

“Thanks, Vie.”

She smiled.

…

Their first stop was the Anne Frank museum. It was relatively close to their hotel so they opted to walk. Neither of them had gotten the hang of the streets, Matt was still muttering under his breath about safety. They found it with relative ease, however, and joined the queue that stretched down the block.

Sylvie took a selfie with the name of the museum in the shot. Looking at it, she could imagine her brother’s exasperated voice and insistence that ancient history was useless to learn about. She had to push down the old irritation with his dismissiveness to issues that didn’t affect him. Although she loved him dearly, that aspect of his character really angered her.

Having booked their tickets online before, Matt and Sylvie only had to show them when they reached the front of the line. The museum was really well put together and a great use of the space. Much of the attic was preserved exactly and the sombre atmosphere helped imagining the tension and stress the inhabitants must have felt. 

It all made Sylvie feel sad. How could people treat others this way? Intellectually she knew the ‘reasons’ but it was just incomprehensible to her.

She had to blink back tears seeing the pages of the original diary. Thinking about the young girl who’d written the words, whose growing height was marked on the wall, who’d died at the hands of systematic and yet senseless cruelty, it was all overwhelming.

Managing to swallow back her sorrow as they entered the last room, a large space with multiple display cabinets and information cards, she looked at the objects with interest. Once she’d seen everything, she leaned into Matt’s side. 

“I almost can’t believe this really happened. That poor girl, so much life and promise just, wasted.”

Although he didn’t move away, Matt only hummed noncommittedly. 

“It’s so crazy to think that there are still Nazis out there.” Sylvie said, hugging her elbows.

“Are there?” Matt muttered back, not looking at her, his shoulders hunching slightly.

“Well, I mean there are probably a few still in hiding, but I was talking about neo-Nazi groups. How can you support those ideals when you’ve seen all this awfulness it led to?”

“Some people are just evil, I guess.” Matt shrugged, turning away.

Sylvie bit the inside of her cheek but didn’t otherwise respond. Despite knowing that he was under the weather, she couldn’t help but be annoyed by his disinterest in the museum.

“I need to remember to go to the Holocaust museum in DC.” Sylvie said back out on the street, walking past the queue of people. She’d mostly been talking to herself, but Matt, a pace ahead her, huffed.

“Okay.”

“What?” Sylvie felt her irritation flare. Why was he being so dismissive?

Matt shook his head mutely, jaw set.

When it was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate, she drew level with him. “If you’ve got an opinion, I’d love to hear it.”

“No, you don’t.” He stated, tone unusually dark.

“What? You think this stuff isn’t important? Isn’t relevant? Systematic oppression is alive and well-”

“You think I don’t know that?” Matt snapped.

“Well you hardly looked at anything in there-”

He stopped walking. “Don’t tell me what’s in my head.”

The sharpness sliced into her chest and she could only look back at him wordlessly. A few people jostled past them and Sylvie felt multiple sets of eyes on her. She didn’t back down though, gaze raking over Matt’s face, looking for…something.

His expression didn’t soften, nor did his shoulders relax. It was rare for him to shut down, but she’d seen it before.

Swallowing, Sylvie nodded in front of them. “We should get to the river.”

They walked to the canal tour without speaking, neither even suggesting they defer. Sylvie considered leaving to cool off, but told herself it was better to stick together. The heavy silence was tolerable for the moment.

The guide was a very friendly woman called Anja. She had a loud, melodic voice, bright blonde hair and the back of her wheelchair had a complex and colourful graffiti design. It looked custom and part of Sylvie perked up at the sight: she did love a good design. She managed to chat a little with Anja as the other tourists trickled in.

Her skin got itchy as she saw how narrow the aisles were, but Anja navigated them with ease and took the microphone from the sound system at the front of the barge.

There weren’t many people so there were a lot of empty rows. Sylvie told herself she didn’t feel upset when Matt sat across from her instead of the same bench. He hadn’t looked her way since the museum and as her anger faded, it left regret behind.

Anja started talking about the history of the waterways of Amsterdam, how they were conceived as part of an ambitious 17th century city planning project for defensive and transportation purposes. Each canal had a different use and class of people living in the houses lining them, many merchants who gained their wealth through trading spices, beer and other goods.

Sylvie tried to concentrate and found it easier the more she listened. Anja threw in humorous remarks and sometimes did impressions of important historical figures to liven up the big chunks of names and dates. Sylvie made a mental note to leave a raving review.

After they passed through a maze of bridges and back into open water, Matt came over and sat next to Sylvie. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

She looked up at the crease lines on his forehead and instantly forgave him.

“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat like that.” She sighed. “Many a family argument has been started like that and I shouldn’t have just assumed you were being flippant about it all.”

He scooted a little closer and she rubbed his arm. “And starting a conversation about neo-Nazism when you’re ill wasn’t my best idea.”

“It wasn’t that, Vie.” He said just loud enough to be heard over Anja’s current talking point. “At least, not all of it. I don’t want my baggage to affect us, but I guess it’s kind of inescapable.”

Not completely sure what part of his history he was referring to, Sylvie wasn’t sure what to say. So she threaded her fingers through his and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt his upper body relax and listened to Anja talk about recent efforts to remove waste from the canals and the annual swimming events held at different points in the city.

“Sometimes when we’d argue, Gabby would put words in my mouth.” He murmured when Anja took a break.

Sylvie looked up at him and he met her gaze. “Or at least, that’s what it felt like. So I got defensive and that’s not fair on you.”

“It’s completely understandable as I _was_ assuming things. Thanks for telling me, though.” She replied, squeezing his hand. In her head, she vowed to be more careful about how she phrased things in the future. Just because he hid them well, it didn’t mean she could forget about his feelings, his hurts.

He looked down at their hands, mouth soft. She kissed his cheek and delighted as the muscle moved against her lips.

Anja started talking again and Matt kissed the top of Sylvie’s head before turning to listen. 

…

By the time they got off the boat and found somewhere for lunch, Matt’s head was dipping. Unwilling to drag him around more or suggest he rest, Sylvie decided not to mention the walking tour. Instead, she managed to order some hot water and mixed another sachet of cold medicine. After some food and medicine, Matt brought up their afternoon plans.

“I’m kind of tired, would you mind if we just had a casual afternoon? Save our energy for tomorrow.” Sylvie replied with all the acting talent she could muster.

Matt considered the suggestion for all of two seconds before agreeing, tension bleeding from his forehead.

Whilst it wasn’t as hot as France had been, the weather was still relatively warm. They were sitting outside and as the sun shone on her chair, Sylvie closed her eyes and turned her face upwards to enjoy the heat. The sounds of people talking, far away traffic rumbling, bicycle bells ringing and a few birds trilling all washed over her. Her head felt clear and her body light.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Matt smiling at her. They paid and started back to the hotel.

“Oh hey, _krokets_ , I’ve heard of these!” She said when she saw the stand.

Matt just tilted his head indulgently and let her drag him over. Sylvie didn’t have the chance to even attempt Dutch before the vendor addressed her in English, but she was too excited to care.

The ‘kroket’ is a deep fried roll with meat ragout inside, covered in breadcrumbs. Matt and Sylvie ordered the traditional variety, made with beef, and settled on a nearby bench to eat them.

“This is really good.” Matt said in between bites. Sylvie agreed wholeheartedly, enjoying the crunchy breadcrumbs.

“Sylvie.”

“Hmmm?” She responded, still munching on her kroket.

“ _Ik ben een brandweerman_.”

Narrowly avoiding choking, tried to keep her genuine surprise from her voice as she said.

“Wow, that sounds really good!”

He beamed back.

“What does it mean?”

“I’m a firefighter.” Matt revealed, grinning.

Sylvie laughed and teased. “Very useful.”

“It might be.” Matt protested, lip twitching upward.

They finished their krokets and walked back to the hotel in comfortable silence. Seeing that Matt was flagging, Sylvie suggested.

“Come on, let’s be lazy all afternoon and then get room service for dinner. My treat.”

He took her hand. “Okay.”

A few minutes later, he said. “About Anne Frank; she did live on.”

Sylvie frowned at him.

“She wanted to be a famous author. It’s for a horrifying reason and not at all what she actually meant but, she’s remembered. Her words are remembered.”

Sylvie stopped and hugged him. He held her close and let out a long breath.

They stood there for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried a lot writing this. I visited the Anne Frank Museum as a teenager and only have vague memories. Doing research and revisiting the story, especially now, was depressing.  
> On a happier note whilst researching Dutch food, found the craziest site. The blog is quite nice and informative, the comment section though…My God, it is a mess and I spent a good twenty minutes cackling at it all. Who ARE these people? Included for your enjoyment:  
> https://www.amsterdamtourist.info/eating-drinking/famous-dutch-food/
> 
> 1\. Matt and Sylvie help out during a small accident at…  
> a) the clog factory  
> b) the cheese maker’s  
> c) the windmill farm
> 
> 2\. Sylvie teaches Matt the French for:  
> a) “I’m a firefighter.”  
> b) “I am in love.”  
> c) “Would you like to sleep with me tonight?”  
> [perhaps the most famous French phrase in English-speaking countries after ‘Bonjour, monsieur’]
> 
> 3\. Matt teaches Sylvie the Dutch for:  
> a) “I’m a paramedic.”  
> b) “I’m in love.”  
> c) “Two krokets and a beer, please.”
> 
> I'll count the votes on Wednesday 17th June 12pm and try to update Sunday 21st June.  
> Thanks so much for reading  
> :D


	14. Day 13 in Zaanse Schans, Edam, Volendam and Marken, Netherlands

They got up early the next morning for the town tours. Matt was feeling better but was still a little sniffly; Sylvie packed an extra pack of tissues in her handbag.

Their guide, Frederick, was of retirement age but still spry. He used his hands a lot as he spoke, getting more animated the more interested people acted in what he was saying. There were a few other small groups: friends, couples and families of three; but Sylvie wasn’t feeling very social.

She didn’t make an effort to talk to anyone else, instead cuddling up to Matt on the coach. He put his arm around her and they gazed out of the window at the city giving way to lush countryside.

The first stop, Zaanse Schans, was only a 20-minute drive from the meeting point in Amsterdam. It was a windmill village and an outdoor conservation area on the banks of the River Zaan.

According to Frederick, the buildings were original 18th and 19th century architecture, including several still functioning windmills and wooden houses. Sylvie delighted in taking pictures of them all, a strong breeze toying with her ponytail.

“What do you think?” She showed Matt her latest photo where she’d managed to get two windmills in shot at once. He hummed in appreciation and almost absent-mindedly pushed back some loose strands of her hair behind her ear. Sylvie grinned.

The group was taken to the clog workshop and watched a live demonstrations of the clog maker. It was incredible watching a chunk of wood being chopped, carved and then sanded into a shoe. At several points Sylvie tensed, concerned the hand-sized axe would fall on the man’s fingers. Yet his grip remained firm and strikes sure.

“He knows what he’s doing.” Matt said close to her ear, arm around her shoulders.

“So does everyone who ends up calling us.” She countered, watching with trepidation as the clog-maker transferred the roughly shaped block of wood to the part of the table under a long, thin blade attached to a hook on the bench.

He used the blade to peel layers of the wood away. Slowly, a clog-shape emerged though without space for the feet. For that, he put the clog into a vice and used a large corkscrew instrument to bore a hole and scoop out a hollow in the wood. Frederick was explaining about some of the technique and type of wood that was popular to use, but Sylvie was too distracted by the process to take much of the information in.

There was something therapeutic about watching the shape of a shoe emerge slowly from a block of wood. As the clog maker finished sanding it, Sylvie and Matt joined in with the light applause from the audience. Sylvie caught Matt levelling a small smirk at her, so he elbowed him in return. 

Sylvie stayed true to her word and bought clogs for Cruz and Otis – Matt handily supplying their shoe sizes. Matt grumbled about being expected to buy things for the whole house, but Sylvie just cheekily suggested that he could always panic-buy at the airport like a lot of travellers. He ended up buying little clog key chains for his sister and niece – something that did _not_ make Sylvie want to coo. 

After the clog maker’s, Frederick let them loose to explore the village and windmill. As they’d seen most of it on the way in, Sylvie and Matt decided to stroll leisurely along the banks of the river.

Suddenly, panicked shouts cut through the relaxed atmosphere and Matt spotted a group of people gathered along the river in the distance.

He and Sylvie raced over and as they got closer, they saw someone thrashing in the water. No, two people! The group was made of up of different tourists, though one particularly distressed man was being comforted by a woman. Probably the father, Matt thought, as they reached the scene. He could see that a woman was swimming back to shore with what looked to be a child. The woman was visibly struggling so Matt handed Sylvie his phone.

“Get ready.”

Sylvie understood instantly, and set about moving people back as Matt lowered himself into the water. The water was cold but it only was just above waist height on him. He waded out and met the woman, taking the child’s other shoulder and adding his strength.

Sylvie had coaxed the father to sit slightly back from where the child would be brought onto land. Sylvie helped the father through a few breathing exercises before looking up to see another tourist leaning down to help Matt and the woman with the child.

The child was dragged up onto the shore but he wasn’t moving and the mother was crying out something in a language Sylvie didn’t recognise. The tourist was saying something Sylvie also didn’t understand, though it was clear they weren’t sure what to do. Sylvie knelt down and nudged them out of the way. 

“I’m a paramedic.” She reassured the tourist. The man responded to her tone and confidence, backing away slightly. She ensured the child was laid out properly and then started compressions as Matt helped the mother up to dry land.

“Sven!” The woman cried and collapsed next to Sylvie, hand reaching out to touch her son’s forehead.

“Ma’am.” Matt tried, a firm hand on her shoulder. “You need to let-”

The boy coughed, water dribbling out of his mouth. Together, all three of them got him turned onto his side.

Just then the conservation authorities showed up and one of the rangers explained in flawless English that he had first aid training. Sylvie updated him on what she’d done and the stats. He thanked her and reassured her that he’d wait with the child until the ambulance arrived.

By then the father had recovered and thanked Matt and Sylvie profusely.

Sylvie considered Matt’s phone in her hand. “I would give this back but…” She looked him up and down. Squeezing water from the hem of his tee, Matt also glanced at his soaked jeans and shoes, before shrugging.

“Well come on, let’s see what Frederick says about letting you back on the bus.” Sylvie teased. Matt flicked some water at her.

…

On the way to the next stop, they travelled through typical Polder-landscapes (reclaimed land from the water). Frederick seemed to have abandoned any plans to give information about the town as he and the other tourists showed a keen interest in the story as well as Matt and Sylvie’s jobs.

One kindly mother had leant Matt a towel she inexplicably had with her, so as to protect the seat and try to dry off a bit. She’d been charmed by his thanks and modesty; Sylvie had felt warm at the nice exchange, the woman reminding her a lot of Cindy.

A teenage girl was particularly hooked by Sylvie’s actions and asked her a lot of questions about being a paramedic in America. The familiar sinking into action mode had dispelled Sylvie’s earlier unsocial feelings, so she didn’t mind talking about her experiences as Matt was quizzed on his own.

The excitement finally died down just as they arrived at the next stop: Kaaswaag Edam.

Edam’s ancient streets and tranquil canals were lined by beautiful 17th century buildings, including the leaning Carillon tower, the Big Church, and the former town hall.

Frederick took them through the city, the tour lasting just less than an hour. He told them about the public weighing house: the most famous building in the town, as it hosted the Edam Cheese Market every summer. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right day for the cheese market, but he recommended some good places to buy well-priced stuff.

Walking past where most of the houses, proved to be the most intriguing part though. Sylvie was struck by the calm waters of the canals running through what otherwise looked like standard suburbs. Yes, the style of building was definitely different from in the US – smaller, A-rooved houses with painted brick. However, the lush green lawns, quaint gardens and cars parked under the tree lines were so familiar. It felt almost like an alternate world: where Nature and magic brushed up so much more closely to the mundanity of everyday life.

“Wow.” Matt said beside her. “This is beautiful.”

Sylvie clasped his hand. 

By the time the group splintered off for lunch, Matt was mostly dry again and he and Sylvie managed to find a restaurant with no other people from the tour. They had a pleasant lunch and on the way back to the coach, were unable to resist the call of an ice cream stall.

“Remember when you laughed at me for learning that phrase?” Matt asked, tilting his ice cream cone to lick at the line of ice cream running down the side.

Sylvie was momentarily distracted by the appearance of his tongue, but rallied. “You didn’t even have to use it so…It wasn’t that helpful.”

“Now who’s being an ignorant American?”

She flicked her hair dramatically. “Don’t be obtuse.”

“No, you’re right. One phrase doesn’t make a master.” He left a dramatic pause, in which she rolled her eyes at him. “Two, on the other hand…”

“Oh wow, I’m swooning!” Sylvie flung the back of her hand against her forehead and sighed. 

“You don’t want to know my second phrase?” He asked mock-innocently, effect only enhanced by the smearing of chocolate ice cream over his bottom lip.

Sylvie pretended to consider it. “Sure, why not?”

“ _Ik ben verliefd op je_.” Matt recited carefully but evenly.

“I don’t know; kind of sounds like the other one.”

Matt barked a laugh. “I promise you it’s not.”

“Well?” She widened her eyes at him as she took another bite.

“I’m in love with you.”

Sylvie straightened, just about remembering to swallow. She stared at his face as if seeing it anew: a light tan was contrasting nicely with the blond beard and the blue of his eyes. He looked back patiently, openly, without demands or expectations. Her body felt weightless even as her heart began to thrum faster.

“That’s more useful.” She said without thinking.

Matt didn’t miss a beat: “It is.”

“ _Je suis amoureuse de toi._ ” She replied. His smile widened. She stepped into his space and kissed him firmly, free hand clutching his arm. He responded for a moment, before flinching back.

Confused, Sylvie blinked. As he moved away though, she looked down at her scoop of ice cream sliding down Matt’s tee.

He started laughing and Sylvie couldn’t help but join him even as she got out the tissues from her bag and dabbed uselessly at the stain. Matt indulged her attempts to clean him up, skilfully taking the empty cone from her hand and throwing it into a nearby trash can.

Once Sylvie straightened, giving up on the stain, Matt joked. “It’s almost as if the universe wants me out of this thing.”

Sylvie started to smile, before her eyes darkened. Slowly sweeping her eyes up his torso, she asked. “How much longer of this thing to go?”

“Just one more stop.” He replied, tilting his ice cream in a clear offer.

Sylvie took a lick, fire in her belly growing as he watched her tongue. She smirked. “Can’t wait.”

…

Finally, they reached the last destination, the beautiful seaside village of Volendam. A typical fishing village, it had a bustling harbour with orange rooved cottages, varnished boats and many, many stalls selling fish and fries.

Frederick told them that it had been a major tourist attraction as early as 1875, with people interested in the small houses, traditions and traditional Dutch costumes. Sylvie had heard the old saying that Europe was just so much older than the US and things like that really hammered it home.

Again Frederick took them on a short walk through the oldest parts of the village. Although it was a small place, the labyrinthine twists and turns of the streets made it feel more grand in a way.

The main highlights of the tour were St. Vincent’s Church and the Visafslag (Fish Auction).

After Frederick’s tour, they had some free time to explore the city on their own but Matt and Sylvie ended up discovering secluded spots for lightening quick make-out sessions. Matt would feel bad for wasting the opportunity to see somewhere he’d likely not see again – or at least for a while – but on the other hand: Sylvie.

By the time they returned to the coach, it was pretty obvious to the other adults how they’d been spending their time, but Matt didn’t really care. A few smirks and winks was not really any kind of penance for spending quality time with the woman he loved. Sylvie’s hand clasped in his and head on his shoulder showed her position on the matter as well.

…

After a long and largely unproductive changing of clothes at the hotel, they took Frederick’s advice and went to an Indonesian restaurant. Past Dutch colonies in Indonesia had facilitated the import of Indonesian dishes to the country – albeit modified slightly to European tastes.

The most famous of these dishes was _bami goreng:_ a stir-fried egg noodle dish containing garlic, onion, vegetables, meat, egg, and chili to offer a spicy kick. Matt ordered that dish and quite liked it; Sylvie had _rendang,_ meat in coconut milk and mixed spices, which she also enjoyed. For dessert they had a layer cake called _spekkoek_. It was interesting, Matt thought. Though he’d been unfairly distracted by _someone’s_ feet under the table.

Sylvie wiped her mouth with her napkin and got out her purse. Matt sat back and watched as she flagged down a waiter and secured their bill in record time. Once she’d paid, Sylvie stood and raised an eyebrow at him. He grinned and left with her back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very pretty pictures of Edam: https://www.tripadvisor.com/Tourism-g580395-Edam_North_Holland_Province-Vacations.html##/media/580395/'108288403':p/?focusedIndex=2  
> I stayed there a few days during a cycling holiday about five years back and I still remember the calmness and almost surreal atmosphere.  
> Wow, we’re so close to the end. They have one more morning in the Netherlands and then flying home. I’ll do a kind of epilogue chapter looking at them after they return home and then we’re done!  
> Thanks so much for reading, hope you’re all still enjoying this.  
> Votes:  
> 1\. Who figures out Matt and Sylvie are together now?  
> a) Emily and Stella  
> b) Severide  
> c) Cruz and Otis
> 
> 2\. What silly souvenir does Sylvie buy for Matt?  
> a) a novel about an English woman’s adventures moving to the Netherlands  
> b) a working windmill keychain  
> c) cheese
> 
> 3\. Who does Sylvie/Matt forget to buy a souvenir for?  
> a) Chief and Donna  
> b) Severide  
> c) Sylvie’s parents
> 
> I will count the votes on: Wednesday 24th around 12pm CEST and try to update Sunday 28th.


	15. Day 14 in Amsterdam, Netherlands

Sylvie woke early. Her back was pressed something warm. She smiled. Matt. Humming, she half-rolled half-jostled him so she could lie on her back and stretch properly. The weight on the bed shifted as Matt grumbled and turned over. Opening her eyes, she watched Matt rub his face and blink at her.

“Morning.” She greeted.

His vaguely annoyed expression smoothed out as he looked at her, took in her hair fanning out over the pillow and body stretched out. “Hey.”

“Ready for our last day in Europe?”

His attention returned to her face and he sighed. “No. You?”

She reached out and lazily stroked his beard. “I don’t know which I’ll miss most.”

Matt rolled his eyes but stayed still as she continued to scritch along his jaw. In fact, the longer she did it, the more he relaxed; eyelids drooping.

Sylvie supressed her smile and committed the soft spot to memory.

Eventually though, he brought a hand up to clasp hers. “Unless you want to miss the park, we should probably get moving.”

Sylvie considered, before huffing and pushing herself up and off the bed. They leisurely got ready for the day: Matt having already packed everything but essentials the night before and Sylvie efficiently checking she had all her belongings safely tucked away in her bags.

As he waited for Sylvie to finish up in the bathroom, Matt rolled out his shoulders. The night before had been…intense. He couldn’t help but smile at the aches in various places and the memories they stirred. Slightly less stiff, he checked his phone.

Severide had messaged him the night before.

_> Hey, how’s it going? Made any progress? *winky face*_

A little annoyed at how smug Severide was going to be when he found out, Matt glared down at his phone.

“What?” Sylvie walked up to him, shouldering her handbag as she did so.

He just showed her the message and she tutted. Then she froze and it was Matt’s turn to ask what she was thinking.

“Why don’t we have some fun?” She explained her idea and Matt grinned, typing back.

_> Well since she found the nice surprise you hid in my suitcase last night she’s not speaking to me. So thanks._

It was the middle of the night back home so Matt turned the volume up on his phone and they checked out. The receptionist agreed to take their bags and suitcases until later and they headed off into the city. 

…

They were using their last morning in Amsterdam to visit Vondelpark, a large park in the south of the city. It wasn’t the biggest green space, but came highly recommended for cycling, walking and picnicking. A river ran through almost all of the park and the small lakes often surrounded by trees and greenery gave the impression of walking into a hidden world. There were a lot of people: tourists and locals alike, enjoying the gentle summer’s morning.

Matt and Sylvie wandered through, hand in hand, basking in the warming sun and light breeze. Matt felt like pinching himself, the light and tranquil atmosphere were almost dream-like. And also, Sylvie. The contentment on her face radiated out, like she was causing the waters to glisten and babble, the verdant plants to rustle gently, the laughter of children echoing in the distance. Matt had to blink hard and swallow the swell of emotion in his throat. He wanted to stay here forever, but knew he couldn’t.

Then Sylvie was looking up at him, question on her face. Unable to speak, he leaned down to kiss her firmly. She responded by framing his jaw with her free hand and leaning into him.

When they pulled apart, she smiled softly, eyes shining just a little. 

Finally, they had to leave Vondelpark and collect their luggage from the hotel. The journey to the airport was uneventful, though Matt seemed relieved to escape the big, complex streets of the city. They checked in their suitcases and went through security without any trouble.

Sylvie had subtly suggested they split up to explore the full variety of shops and was fairly confident Matt hadn’t figured out her intention. She browsed the souvenir shop, with the various foodstuffs, books and knickknacks, before deciding on a windmill key chain. It was small and slim, metallic in design, with the Dutch flag at the bottom. The mechanism actually worked, so you could spin the blades around. It was one of the more robust versions, which she knew Matt would appreciate, being the utilitarian guy he was, as he could actually use it more than a cute, easily breakable one.

Meanwhile, Matt was trying to decide if making Belgium waffles or fries for the House would be a sufficient enough gift. He hadn’t ever gone away to the same extent before and didn’t have a good frame of reference for good souvenirs for his pseudo-family. He eyed the expensive wines again. Maybe a bottle for the Chief and Donna? But then what would he get for Terrence?

Would anyone else be offended?

His phone chimed and he saw a new message from Severide. 

_> Ha, ha. Very funny. Like she’d believe anything bad of you._

Matt twisted his lip. Well that was no fun. He replied:

_> Fine, she knew it was you. You’re still terrible._

Severide sent back almost immediately:

_> So was I right, or was I right? _

Matt rolled his eyes: what friends he had. When he met back up with Sylvie, he told her and she huffed.

“Well, it was worth a try.” She tilted her head. “So are you going to confirm or deny? I mean, we’re almost home.” 

“There is something to be said about everyone already knowing.” As he said that, he got another message:

_> I’m totally right._

Sylvie patted him on the arm. “I’ll tell my girls now, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Agreeing, Matt begrudgingly sent one of the few photos he had on his own phone. It was him and Sylvie on their first night in Amsterdam, on their way home from dinner when they’d decided each other’s endearments. He’d been so happy and Sylvie’s smile had been so wide, that he hadn’t been able to resist pulling her to the side of the street and in for a snap. They were cheek to cheek, beaming like they were teenagers in a photo booth.

Lingering over it once the message was sent, he was a little surprised by how young they looked; whilst it was true he felt happier and more energetic than in a long time, he hadn’t really expected it to be obvious.

When Severide’s reply came back, Matt snorted and pocketed his phone.

…

They boarded the plane among a mixture of tourists returning home and locals travelling to the States. Neither of them felt like talking much, especially among whiny children and tired families snapping at each other. They navigated the narrow aisles with some amount of grace and found their seats, quickly stowing away their shopping bags and sitting down.

In the end, they’d decided to go fifty-fifty on the souvenirs; so Sylvie’s clogs for Cruz and Otis would be from both of them, she’d also bought some fancy chocolates in Belgium for the office staff and a few French souvenirs for Stella and Foster. Matt had bought wine for the chief and Donna, a bottle of _Old Jenever_ for Engine: a precursor to gin, the shop assistant told him it was a very strong liquor with an almost overpowering smell; _Oranjebitter,_ a bitter orange liquor, for Truck, and for Squad: _Beerenburg_ , a liquor with a secret spice mix. He’d also bought Severide…

“Oh no.” Matt sat up, back ramrod straight.

“Something wrong?” Sylvie asked.

His head turned to look at her slowly. “I forgot to get something for Severide.”

Sylvie relaxed back into her seat and waved a hand. “Oh please, he’ll be happy enough that his genius plan worked.”

“We got together before then.”

“Like he’ll accept that as the truth.” Sylvie raised an eyebrow. “He’s going to claim that he single-handedly got us together.”

Matt snorted and nodded. “Yeah, he’s getting nothing from us.”

Then they were taking off. Sylvie looked out of the window sadly as they ascended into the clouds. When the seatbelt sign switched off, she slid her hand into his and asked. “What was your favourite part?”

“Well,” he considered, bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss, “this whole thing was pretty special.”

“Pretty special?”

He chuckled. “Amazing. You?”

She hummed, looking down at their hands for a moment, before smiling up at him. “I don’t think I could just choose one part. There were a lot of highlights. I’ll never forget France.”

“The wine tasting.” Matt chuckled.

Sylvie laughed too. “And the canoe adventure.”

“And Paris.”

“And Paris.” She agreed.

“It probably goes without saying but, I’m so glad we did this.”

Sylvie giggled. “Me too.”

“Are you going to miss Vacation-Matt?” He asked.

“Oh, something tells me I’ll see him again.” She replied, the light in her eyes dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no votes as the next chapter is just them catching up with everyone and seeing a snapshot of their new life together. Hope to upload that next weekend, if not before.  
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting and voting, it’s been a really amazing experience seeing the progression of this story and collaborating in this way.  
> :D


	16. Home Again

Parting ways at the airport parking lot was hard. It was early evening and the lot was relatively quiet; the pair were standing by Sylvie’s car, not quite looking at each other. The drive home wasn’t so long, but Sylvie couldn’t seem to let go of Matt’s hand.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Sylvie asked, leaning as far as she could into him.

“I need to visit a potential client.” He circled an arm around her. “You?”

Sylvie lips pouted slightly. “I don’t have any plans but I imagine Emily and Stella will want to hang out, catch me up on things.”

“And then shift.”

“And then shift.”

Sylvie had stopped looking at the messages from people once their bags had appeared on the carousel, but she was aware there were more of them. She had anticipated the level of interest but it was still annoying. Not because she begrudged them the thirst for gossip – it was one she shared after all – but she was just generally resentful of sharing Matt. Bad enough they’d have to go back to work and separate lives, but other people being interested in their relationship and nosing in was just more time away from him.

Finally, she sighed. “Breakfast together after shift.”

He kissed her. “I’m sure I’ll need it.”

She smiled sadly and got into her car, watching him walk away to his own. _Enough wallowing,_ she told herself. The next chapter of their lives was beginning.

…

Severide started chuckling as soon as Matt came through the door to the apartment. Matt flicked him off, which only made Severide whoop and applaud. Breaking, Matt laughed.

“I still hate you.”

Severide teased. “My bad, I guess it was the face fuzz that did it.”

Casey grabbed a cushion from the couch and threw it at Severide’s head.

They talked for a while: Casey about the vacation, Severide about House antics – the main story being the Chief having to shut down one of Herrmann’s latest schemes, which was totally a pyramid scheme no matter how much Herrmann had insisted otherwise.

“How was the relief Lieutenant?” Casey asked.

“Eh, he was fine. Not you.­­” Severide shrugged.

Casey hummed and they fell into their usual off-shift mode, watching a game of something in companionable quiet.

Meanwhile, Emily was showing Sylvie pictures of the neighbourhood cat Tuesday had befriended.

“Aww, they’re adorable!” The cat was also black and white, so almost blended into Tuesday where it lay across her back.

“Yes, we still don’t know who the little guy belongs to, but of course Ritter and Gallo have already named him and get all gooey whenever he’s around.”

“Did I miss anything else?”

Emily shrugged. “Not really, I am much more interested in what you got up to young lady.”

“I already told you!”

“Na-uh, I need more juicy details.” Emily rested her elbow on the back of the couch, eyebrows dancing.

Sylvie blushed but indulged her friend with the pg-13 stuff. It wasn’t as fun as actually doing those things, but Sylvie was glad to be able to talk to someone else. Emily supported her and reassured her that everyone would get used to it. Whilst Sylvie didn’t voice her concerns about both her and Matt’s baggage, she knew that Emily and Stella would be there if she needed to. Sipping some wine, she admitted that being back wasn’t all bad.

…

Shift was as expected. Everyone had to say their piece about the relationship, but it was all kept friendly. Brett and Casey entertained them with their tales from the trip and people seemed to like their souvenirs: Otis and Cruz in particular took to their clogs – annoying everyone by clomping around the House and having disastrous ‘races’ that lasted forever.

At work, Brett and Casey managed to keep things friendly and mostly professional. Casey hadn’t realized how close they’d been before the trip, because he found himself questioning things which had seemed natural and innocent before: catching up when they got back from calls, asking each other for advice and checking up on each other if they were skipping meals. Well, those things were still innocent in theory, but in practice, Matt had to force down his heightened awareness of her lips and body and memories of _doing things_. A couple of times they’d had to stand further away from each other to avoid giving in to the almost gravitational pull.

Off-shift, their relationship bloomed. As they shared friends and saw each other at gatherings, it was sometimes hard to schedule time alone but both of them made the effort to fit each other in. Dinners out, days on the lake and one very memorable dance class – which Matt swore Sylvie to secrecy about – became precious times for them.

They kept their apartments, not wanting to move too fast, but still visited each other’s places enough to be comfortable there and enjoyed the separation between seeing each other at work and off-shift. Well, ‘enjoyed’ maybe wasn’t the right word. Matt was sure that some independence was good for both of them, but that didn’t stop him from missing her when they were apart. When he admitted that, she told him the same.

“Still doesn’t mean I want you to come to my spin class though.” She’d joked.

In all, things were balanced perfectly.

…

About five months after they’d returned, Matt was over at Sylvie’s place. They were alone and having a quiet evening in. _House Hunters_ was on. During an ad break, Matt sat up.

“I got you something, completely forgot until now.” Matt took something out of his jeans pocket and placed it in Sylvie’s palm.

It was a ‘I love Paris’ keychain.

“I know it’s a little tacky but, I just saw it at the train station and wanted to have the reminder.”

She kissed him, heart pounding. As she’d suspected, France was the place she missed the most, and she was so glad he valued it as well.

“We must be meant for each other.” She jumped up and went to her room, coming back with a grin on her face. She handed Matt a slim package and, opening it, he smiled. It was a windmill keychain.

Matt thanked her and then considered both key chains. “Hey, I know we haven’t talked about it but, I think maybe we could do it soon.”

“What?”

“Move in together.”

Sylvie considered and then said. “We do already have the keychains.” She looked up, biting her lip. “Things have been going so well, you don’t think moving in together would change that?”

Matt leaned in and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Change it for the better maybe. I feel ready and if you do too…”

“I do.­”

Matt’s smile deepened.

Eyes lighting up, Sylvie kissed him before snatching up her phone from the coffee table. “Lucky I’ve got a favourites list on like five different property websites!”

Curling into her, Matt chuckled and they stayed tucked up together for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we are done! Thanks again to everyone, you’ve all been fantastically supportive and I love you all very much.  
> Now I’m going to finish off one/two 'Knives Out' fics I’ve been teasing for like a year. After they’re up though, I’ll return to my two Chicago Fire series ‘Spaces’ and ‘Across the Ocean’. I want to get those finished this summer [fingers crossed].  
> Then it’ll be a mixture of things. For Chicago fire I have some Sevasey ideas, some Brettsey, some gen and I will also revisit the ‘Singles Club’ series for some more poly smut.  
> I'm also taking suggestions to this series 'Antidote to Canon', so have a look at the series description and if there's anything not on there you'd like to see, let me know  
> :D


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